Harbinger - Goddess of Truth & Fortune
by xxWonderFablexx
Summary: Daughter, Princess, Harbinger & Priestess - these are the many titles of Inia Freyrdottir. A beloved confidant of Loki's youth, Inia returns to Asgard nearly a woman after centuries apart from Asgard's Dark Prince, carrying out the duties of her mother-realm, Vanaheimr. Upon the Festival of Jera celebrating the 2 realms peace, an estranged bond transcends into forbidden love.
1. Teaser

Inia stands at the edge of the field, the aroma of fluorescent vegetation pleasantly perfuming the air. The wind's whispers loiter the forest encompassing the clearing as breezes breathe and rustle the substantial canopy above. In the corner of her sight, she is aware of the dark prince abreast of her also gazing unto the otherworldly vibrancy of the breathtaking landscape set on the rural outskirts of Asgard City. She confesses, "Your realm is glorious, though I cannot choose a word to properly express how much I appreciate such splendor. You are acquainted with this place."

A look of pleasure and astonishment seeps into his eyes so upon catching one another's gaze, a smirk reactively upturns a corner of his mouth. "Verily. Odin would take Thor and I here as children to teach us the art of war. As I strayed from tradition, Frigga brought me here once a week as her apprentice. I see Nerthus nowhere in sight. Why bring us here?"

_Wonderful. I lost the princess and for all I know, she is fornicating with Thor as we sit here lollygagging in the forest alike an elf in heat. Norns, I am a horrible guardian. And then I must deal with Loki. _

An audible sigh exasperates her. "Tis difficult to explain, much more for another who is in no relation with the Norn Fates."

"Explain it as a soliloquy, as if you were pondering aloud. I am far more perceptive than I am fabled to be, Inia. Take time with your thoughts, we shall collect your charge."

Uneasy with the picture of him leaning coolly against a tree trunk awaiting her answer, shadowed by the brush of gold-stemmed leaves draping downward leaving her to see peridot shamelessly studying her, she senses no agents of chaos bustling the god of mischief, currently, so she relaxes and takes her resting stance of uncovered arms knitting below her armored bust.

_Lying is out of the question. The basics should appease him and whatever else he enquires. That is if he knows what to query at all since a select few throughout the realms may comprehend the potential of a harbinger in its fullest. Yes, this is good. Diplomacy is key, nothing personal_.

"Are you familiar with the tale of the Norn Sisters? How they came together to save their loved ones, perished at the hands of their fate, that the tears of the universe's mother who is Yggdrasil herself wept tears of life and love that rebirthed the three daughters of past, present, and future so they may crown the canopy of the realms' life tree?"

Loki nods positively.

"Good, then we shall begin there. … A select few throughout the Nine know of this tale, including myself and soon you. My heritage spans far and vast; my Mother once said that a child of fate arrives once every one-hundred millennia to share the visions of the three sisters in premonitions, to uphold peace within the universe in times of crisis, war, and great sorrow. I know not if I believe these things myself, simply because tis rather… _extreme_. But once again, anything is possible and it would be foolish of me to not at least indulge the tale." Unconsciously taking a deep breath and focusing on the opalescent bird floundering on a branch and rustling sheer feathers above her, she speaks as if to the blue-tailed rodent clutching an acorn accompanies the creature of flight. "Gaea claims Njord spoke of a harbinger in the bloodline, but that exchange was unfortunately his last so she knew not what he meant for many centuries. Then I was conceived." Sparing mischief a look to make sure she still captures his ears, Inia continues once he nods, noticing his mask of boredom melting away as interest sparks and flares.

That, his ever-growing interest, she is not sure what to make of. No one has ever taken to her so quickly rather they know so or not despite being a priestess and speaking publically to the commonwealth conducting rituals of blessings and nuptials. Judging by the peculiar show of openness accentuating his features whilst he jests and teases her has not escaped her notice. He favors her. He genuinely _favors_ her; she can sense the truth in his expressions rather he realizes this or not. Again, she knows not what to make of it. Nervousness? Fright? Anxiety? Excitement? No. Sorrow? Yes. Mourning? Definitely grief.

"Worlds away, Frigga had a dream of the Norns claiming my bones with their rune craft. Yes, I was born a harbinger and carry the blood of the Norn Sisters in my veins." Inia shakes her head, disbelievingly. "Odin and Gaea conversed and confirmed this, both witnessing a premonition I had in the womb upon my Mother's touch. I could not tell you what the premonition was, I cannot remember and they refuse to tell me."

"I see. Frigga has always seen you as a daughter."

"Yes, she has been a great strength for me though I fear am a constant burden to those amongst me."

Envy, anger, annoyance, and astonishment seethes akin one of Muspelheim's vegetative inferno geysers within his exclaim. "Why? You prevent wars in brewing realms, warn many of natural disasters, and protect those who cannot protect themselves! You are a savior! The hero-worship that follows you is a pagan of your achievements! You have shrines erected in your name by civilizations of those you have yet to meet, so much so tis practically a cult! You are accepted, so easily trusted and never deceived thus never endangered! What have _you_ to burden?"

Resisting the urge to scoff at the accusation of a perfection she loathes and to roll her eyes at the implication that she relishes the attention, she squares her shoulders. "I refuse to fuel that show of hostility. Worry not, I forgive your brash ignorance."

"Fine. Please enlighten me, _Harbinger_." In the shade of vegetation, he smolders her greatly in disgruntlement.

"I do not have a hand of control in foresight. Yes, I wield it but tis a living craft in its own right. My nights are plagued by randomized sequences of the future I have yet to distinguish. I see things but I never fully understand what importance they hold or when they shall occur. Any of them may happen within the hour or within the next century." Solemnly, she blinks her sight fro the prince to examine the intricate accents of rose gold glistening her over-the-knee-boots rather intensely. The toe of her boots draws lines in the clearing of dirt haphazardly, knowing she cannot glint at Loki without baring the true weight of her emotions on her face. Strangely, she cares not how her tone sounds however disgusted, angry, or saddened it is. "I am doomed to be forever awaiting things to parallel, trapped in an infinite puzzle of circumstance and misconceptions. No one can help me in this, tis my burden alone and is why I chose to become Vanaheimr's priestess, why sainthood is my salvation. The mere reason Frigga and Odin were able to see as I did is because of our native blood to the _sedir_ realm, our kinship of understanding the Norns, and Odin because he is soul-marked to her." She shrugs dejectedly, continuing her monologue and digging clumps of sparkly dirt with her heel carelessly. "Many see my choice of virtue as selfish and throughout my centuries, many have made effort and demand to have Freyr betroth me in the hope of more harbingers, but he countered by questioning the _sedir_'s potency as it travels the bloodlines. Freyja and our healers believe I had a premonition in the womb so enthralling it bestowed so much distress that I nearly slain my Mother and I, reasoning my cesarean birth. Freyr did not wish me the same distress of motherhood that was forced upon my Mother, believing nuptials and heirs are not of importance." For the first time since she started her explanation, a fond smile curves her lips. "I believe it would suit Idunn more beautifully anyway, she enjoys the prospect of promiscuity interweaving tradition and copes with attention better than I ever shall. Earlier when I touched the dirt and saw this meadow, I had to reach deep within myself and feel for the Norns. I had to request for aide and permission to wield it. You see, when I am in my most vulnerable form and open to infinite possibilities, the foresight awakes in my sleep and flashes countless moments of life and death all in a matter of seconds. Like a dream. When I am conscious and aware, tis rare the Norns bestow me a premonition and if they do, tis swift and powerful alike the waves of Aegis crashing upon pink sands. No matter when I beckon the harbinger, tis always a conversation of respect between mind and soul and if I need to source someone quickly, I find tis easier to associate with a physical attachment of the individual. For instance, Nerthus has a forte for geo-psionic Vanir _sedir_ and connecting my flesh to the dirt presented me a glimpse of her. I saw her here. … Gaea is convinced I am some sort of rebirth of the Norns Sisters themselves since I can see each facet of time unlike the Imperial Queen who may only see a premonition of an individual's past through tele-psionic enchantment and physical touch. Honestly, I believe they have become a bit overeager in the proposal of a Norn Child and have allowed their imaginations to overtake their sense of reality and truth. I certainly feel not half as glorious as they exaggerate me to be." She sighs, seeking silence after speaking so long about her ultimate downfall. "I know not if you understand this, but I cannot think of another way to explain my oddities."

"You speak as if you wish not to wield the Norns."

Inia replies not feeling disappointment nor gladness, "Even if I do not, I have not a choice. My fate was sealed before I was cut from my Mother's womb. In blackness surrounded orbs of light none shall hear my cry of despair in the void because I already have perished." Only when Loki stammers uncharacteristically over his words, unmistakably disturbed and shaken, does she dismiss her etches in the dirt to reach him at the tree's base.

"… You have…? I did not – _oh_. … That is horrible. I grieve for you."

Astonished overall by his reaction and witnessing the evident truth of his statement suspiciously brightening his eyes for reasons she knew not would affect him so deeply, Inia leans on the pale wood and is pleased she does not need to angle her neck uncomfortably to speak with a man for once due to their close range in height. Pale garnet threading to enchanting peridot, she speaks in a similar fashion how she soothed Kayn, "I would prefer if you do not. Loki, it is alright, I assure you. I accept it, but you must remember that the future changes constantly with every choice we make and every action we take, although the destination is always remains. … Time is both limited and infinite, a complex concept I have damned more than I can count, but I accept my purpose for existence and choose to do the upmost I can even if I must sacrifice parts of myself to do it."

"Tis still your life to live." He argues vehemently, the growl in his silken voice strengthens a crescendo of estranged emotions her explanation seemed to have unintentionally unleashed. "You have the right to do as you please, Inia. You are a goddess in your own right and come from the highest form of respect and nobility. Gods, you are a _princess_, an heiress of the Vanir crown rather you consider yourself as such or not."

"I do not wish to rule and for once I am relieved the Norns and I are in agreement. You are also not the first to state as such. Freyr has bargained with Gaea and Odin attempting to lift the _bestowment_ from me, but they have denied him a hundred-fold. I understand; the results of my Norn _sedir_ is needed and there is no telling what would occur across the universe if I were to be relieved of my duties or if I were to suddenly perish."

"And if you do perish, shall it be another one-hundred millennia before the next Norn Child is born?"

"I can only assume so."

It shall be many centuries of days contemplating miscellaneous moments of the future, diligently etching splashes of prophecies in color before she becomes lost to a sea of blackness. Knowing this, a strange sense of content clasps the foresight hand-in-hand, calming her presently while the circumstances granting her end is cloaked even from her. However, drifting in a vastness of silence wrapped by the cool clutches of sweet death, she has not a reason to fear anything. By that time in her lifespan, Inia expects she may welcome the tranquil end rather than challenge the prospect of frantically surging for a lifeline to keep her thriving. Survival shall be fruitless by that point.

His eyebrows furrow quizzically. "You do not know?"

"I can only see what has, is, and shall come during my lifetime. Anything beyond me is a leaf in the wind, neither here nor there."

After several beats of soft aerations of the breeze gusting to and fro the pair wafting mixes of flora to tickle her wiggling nose, cueing a barely-there smile from the prince, a quiet voice touches her ears. "My apologizes. My brashness and ignorance was out of place."

"Worry not, Loki. You are forgiven."

"I thank you."

"Of course." Stifling a giggle at the flabbergasted, lost look cresting him, Inia struts for Kayn secured to a low branch patiently awaiting attention or command of transportation. Caressing a stripe up and down the length of his snout and patting a wide circle on his neck, her blossom sight seeks Asgard's master of magic and seeing as he vanished, she sighs woefully. "Loki, if you are here I –"

Thunder bellows in the distance and Kayn rears, hooves kicking high and thrashing wildly as neighing screams chase scores of lightening crackling in the starry sunshine of day.

_Oh Gaea. That cannot be good._

"Shhhh. All is well, Kayn. Breathe, stallion, breathe. Ah, there you are. Good. Breathe, Kayn. Shh. Rest here while I retrieve Loki, alright? I shall return, just remember to breathe." Rubbing his neck for a final time, Inia plasters a hand to the holster on her thigh, cautious of the environment's many thickets and pockets of sanctuary for wild beasts or enemies of the throne to hide within. "Loki? … Loki, cease this nonsense! I must return to Nerthus and I highly doubt your brother shall be pleased if I left you to your devices stranded in the wilderness, not to mention Frigga's import of punctuality! Loki! This is no time to game with me!"

"What is this symbol?"

Circling around a massive tree and finding said prince crouching on the forest floor interpreting her illustration, Inia halts a couple feet before a contemplative Loki.

Apparently he has discovered the random etching her foot created and has taken interest in the design.

"Nothing of imp –" Her tongue bridals. She sighs exasperatedly.

"You cannot lie, especially to a liar. Though, I appreciate the effort of you warping your morals for me."

Eyes narrowing at his egotism, she breathes curtly, "Do not flatter yourself, I have not lied."

"Only because you physically cannot." He chimes cheekily, looking much too thrilled with this revelation.

"I have seen it a handful of times throughout my centuries, none the more. Come along, I do not believe Nerthus shall journey to this field today. When she does, I plan to be with her which shall vary the premonition and divert future travesty." Noticing he makes no quest to move and grazes dexterous fingers over the geometrics in the dirt, she squats beside him regarding it blankly. "What is it, Loki?"

"Tis familiar to me, but I know not how."

For the life of her, she cannot restrain herself from memorizing the endearing divot of confusion creasing the space between his eyebrows or dragging her eyes over the faint lines of thoughtfulness returning centuries of youth to his face and making him all the more beautiful when he is not self-consciousness enough to school his dark and sharp features upon a throne of perfectly unblemished ivory, reminding the Vanir of freshly fallen snow. Immediately, her gaze swoops to the nearest tree a couple lengths aside them as he looks up. In her gut, she is sure he has felt her stare scouring the complimentary proportions of a hawk nose and the slim shape of pink lips or the definition of his jaw in the corner of his eye and simply humors her natural curiosity, though she strongly rebukes the horrific realization.

_Why in Vana did I turn toward a tree of all things? There are flowerbeds all around, Inia. Gods, you are ridiculous. Let us pray he does not mention it, surely he cannot be that cruel. Surely. _

Feeling eyes strongly upon her, she wonders if this is what it feels to be admired, but again dismisses her imagination when she indeed discovers Loki discernment, looking at her strangely for whatever reason. "Well, when you discover why, I would appreciate it if you share your findings with me."

"Of course." He glints skyward, green orbs looking between the canopies veiling the daylight stars overhead. "The thunder is nothing to concern yourself with. I am sure Thor is attempting to win the affections of your princess and bring her to his bed by the mystics of Mjolnir."

Her mouth sterns discreetly, a small behavioral habit of distaste and stress she often wields publically usually occurring so quickly none but those familiar to her never witness the action opposed to her self-suffocation of screaming viciously in the privacy of her bedchambers, preferably into a pillow. On the rare chance one does witness this miniscule frown, they never think anything of it and attribute it to be her dull, introvert personality.

"You are upset."

Her face twists incredulous, hints of horror and amazement swirling her eyes. She stiffens defensively once on her feet and faces the royal who also rises. "Oh? And how do you know this, trickster? Do not lie to me or I shall compel the truth from you."

"What does that entail?" He ponders smoothly, perking with devious interest.

"Loki." She warns, pursing her lips.

"You are an honest creature, for you this means every thought that crosses your glorious face is genuine because you know not how to control your emotions despite the stern helm of a priestess. I am the best liar within the Nine, I can smell the aura of deceit in a gathering of thousands and I sense no falsehoods in you whatsoever. If that is not convincing enough, I happened to notice how your fingers tremble in apprehension and anxiety. When you are angry, frustrated and annoyed, your mouth purses. If something is of interest to you, a single eyebrow raises, typically the right one." He raises his own brow to demonstrate in a way she is sure is meant to be smug and prideful but begrudgingly, looks quite comical to her. "Also, your arms cross when you ponder with great strain, tis also your resting stance."

Any other time, she would giggle at his comedic mimicry and body language skills but her body goes through said motions of frustration, utter horror sprinkled with guilt and paranoia, her dose of usual sadness, ultimate acceptance, and lastly curiosity. "Am I that transparent?"

_Gods he is observant_.

"Crystal. Though, I would worry not of others seeing you as so, for they have not my perception. Now, you are upset. Tell me why."

For a moment, it sounds as if he is trying to reassure her until vanity stokes the fire of his egotism and smolders her revelation to ash, far beyond the possibility of his glassy observation concerning herself.

"I fear her maidenhood may become lost to her before I am able to preside over her nuptial. A blessing of fortune upon a royal by the hand of a priestess such as myself is Vanir tradition. Dismissing these bestowments have reflected consequences before."

_Severe consequences. Freyr can attest to this; tis another reason why he cares not if Idunn or I wed nor produce heirs, _she sighs.

"I see." Within a few strides of his long legs, Loki leads them to Kayn's side where said steed nuzzles and knicks at her neck, making her giggle and playfully push the charger's head aside and repeat the process for several moments. The prince observes her patting the animal warmly, a faint smile gracing her plush mouth as his cool fingertips finally pay his runner affection by petting a velvety snout. His voice octaves much softer than he typically cares for, still catering spite indirectly aimed toward the blonde. "Is every lady in the green realm subjugated in maidenhood for the entirety of their lives or is this fruitless privilege segregated only to your dear aunt and yourself?"

"We Vanir are stricter in matrimony. This applies to all, though not all of us agree with tradition." Inia hopes he can feel the hole her stare burns into his skull, praying it makes him uneasy so he shall cease this path of questioning leading to the familiar and unwelcome subject of her counterpart.

"Freyr cares not for these traditions, does he?"

"Whether he does or not is no matter to concern yourself with, Loki. Please, enough enquires now. We are both needed at the Palace." Just as she reaches for the reins, her mouth morphs frustration and her eyes burn at the pale hand swiping them deftly out of her reach. If she was not irritated before, she is when he mounts and stretches a hand, leaving Inia to his polite, if not merciful mood, and ultimate control of Kayn who bobbles his head upon finishing a filling graze. She glares. "You are not as charming as you believe you are."

"No? Well, only time shall tell." That smug look crests his handsome face, poking a charismatic dimple aside his mouth. "Come, _Jera_ awaits us."

Saddled between Kayn and Loki's front, left to grip the horn-handle to unintentionally brushing into the comforting and familiar serenity a Jotunn's coolness brings from one to another, Inia dials a keen, artist-eye here and there, to and fro the breathtaking beauty of the meadow and forests dashing hooves trample. A slow-burning and ever-consuming glow of a great sorrow dusts the harbinger within, flickering a deep-seeded sensation of a hollowness she has known her entire life, alighting a fresh wick of fear only a seer such as herself feels in her marrow. Thick as blood, true as teardrops, swift as fate, her gaze rounds a broad shoulder that is not her own, realizing that everything comes to an end.

**~_ Norn Vision/Foresight_ _as Harbinger_~**


	2. 1

1

Screaming. That's all she dreamt the night before and Valhalla help her, she cannot bear the burden of being the sole person to only hear their petrified, sorrowful wails scribed by sizzling flesh and ashen bone.

_Flesh_.

As if she were there, the frazzled scent of once-lush ringlets of the young and old, both nearest to her and foreign plagued her senses endlessly until she spurt out a four-post bed and retched the remains of yesterday's last meal in the water closet, her face tear stained and body drenched in fear. Currently, she sits in the heart of colorful portraits scattered in no such order, discarded and consuming the quartz floors of her studio chambers, wreathing her alike an idol shrine. Fingers stained from channeling her premonitions to memory onto parchment for both physicality and documentation from the dead of night to the first break of dawn, she flexes a cramped index digit, long and nimble with the appropriate callouses from a five hundred-fifty century old love affair with archery, the sun-kissed hue of creamy skin dusted by charcoal highly paralleling the bubbling black flesh of the flame's victim –

_Calm yourself, Inia. Twas merely a dream, it cannot harm you unless you give it power. _A watery sigh gathered at the base of her throat, threatening to reprise her compassion in the form of inconsolable weeping_. Norns, please, lend me the strength to bear this burden_.

Unfortunately, her automatic instinct to calm a situation roared back with a vengeance, for her heart sinks further knowing damn well nightmares are dreams too and her dreams of foresight are never wrong.

Dusting her hands of crusted paint and frowning at the red, orange, and yellow flakes speckling her dark bedgown, she forgoes cleanliness and stains the silky material without care or niceness. Thick stacks of parchment dried and rolled into a scroll after labeling each portrait or landscape of chaos and death with season date and day of the week, she unconsciously fishes a thoughtful lip between straight, pearly teeth and compiles them in a separate, unceremonious chest from her usual drawings, sure to secure the enchantment on the lock. Disguised chest of troves shoved deep behind a storage alcove pocketed in the far wall, she slides and clasps the decorative curtain to hide her treasure in plain sight. The telltale click of the double door entrance opening behind her, she swivels upon a girl as tall and curvaceous as herself sporting the same face and blushing quartz orbs, but with shoulder-length caramel blonde hair shimmering thousands of gold tones in the sunlight unlike her rather bland platinum blonde tresses hanging in a similar fashion which are curled at her ample bosom.

"My, well good morning to you too, sister. Tell me, is it common for you to flash your bosom to all that enter your chambers or am I special?" Wearing a sly smile, long fingers glide over her own bare shoulders where a strap would lie if she donned anything else but strapless bodices and flags of translucent skirts or body contouring corsets in her wardrobe.

_Norns' sake. Of course Idunn must walk in on me decompressing my discomforts and bring them to attention. Why can she not bridal her tongue? I understand her care, no matter the tone of flippancy she presents it, but if I want her comfort and opinion, I shall reach for it. She knows better, that I care not for coddling. Besides, what point is there to explore the delicate nature of my premonitions when no one but I have this ability alone? No one can understand what tis like to witness carnage and sit idly by knowing damn well there is nothing to do to change fate? Damn the Norns for their bestowment. Damn them all to Hel!_

Fighting the angry heat accenting the pink undertone of her native flesh torching her neck, she turns away for a fleeting second to right herself, then stands to bypasses the blonde and motion her nosy sister out of her place of solace with a gentle motion of her head.

"Well, that is plain rude. Pray tell, what has you in such a foul mood?"

Technically not lying but not emotionally quelled to relive every shred of dire distant information just to receive a mediocre pat on the back or an overbearing offer to have herself primped to her sister's preferences, she brushes off question and automatically dons a cool smile of casualness stirring in indifference. "Oh, the usual. Dreams. None the more." Closing both doors in the hall of her foyer, she mildly scans the lustrous figure of perfection, beckoning her to speak by inching a neatly groomed eyebrow.

Shooting an eyebrow up in an identical manner showcasing skepticism, Idunn knits her arms across her chest which incidentally swells her cleavage even more than the bustier of her bodice.

Vaguely, she wonders if her sister knows such scandalous acts happens on a regular basis by her own hand or if ignorance truly has a hold of her, as result from being ravished senseless one too many times by the nobles and their sons of the Imperial Mother's court. Although, Idunn may be a self-proclaimed harlot and basks in the light of her harem day and night so yes, she indeed knows for tis the purpose she dons these fashions to begin with. Inia does not think these things to judge her, she hardly cares what her kin does as long as she is safe and is not plotting Ragnorok, but she would never dare dress the way the blonde does, parading herself around alike a suckling pig in banquet. Hardly not. In these moments, she cannot fathom how others confuse herself for Idunn or Idunn for herself and yes, they are very close in appearance and equal in attractiveness but that is as far as their similarities travel. Idunn, her dearest Idunn, is much more favorable among the opposing gender given her arts in seduction paired with a wildly personable and type of ruthlessness only inherited from their scarlet haired Aunt Freyja who too favors Idunn as if she were her own. As for herself? She believes others see her as a bit of a recluse, which is understandable given her brutally blunt nature and desire to help others by any means, though as a harbinger, it only makes her draw further into herself because the burden of being the closest link to the Norn Fates crowning Yggdrasil is her burden alone. She does not wish harm or suffering upon others no matter what crime they have committed because in her heart of hearts, Inia Freyrdottir knows that no creature, not even the Surt of Muspelheim, are born evil. Love is the most important and powerful force in the universe and unfortunately and ironically for the goddess of fortune, she would never be granted the chance to experience such a bliss of the likes of Midgard's Shakespeare and Lord Byron so beautifully described. By her sacrifice, all would be well; twas what her father told her as gal whilst her mother lullabied sweetly of Jotunheimr and tis what she is still told by him in bouts of uncertainty.

A sudden but gentle skim of a manicured nail removes her from the ballroom of her mind, swatting away the worming finger from her ear belonging to her counterpart with a true smirk birthed from the mock snarl Idunn dons. "What is it you need, Sister?"

"Not I, Father. He wishes you to visit him in the solarium once you have finished making yourself presentable." Her thick cupids bow hitches up, curling blatantly with discontent at Inia's unruly state. Landing a blossom pink sight on the hem of colorfully stained skirt, Idunn glides abreast her sister treading for her bed chambers directly across the hall. Locks twirled in a glorious cascade of gold curls with the occasional braid here or there, Idunn settles homily on the cushioned bench placed at the foot of a rose gold four-post bed not unlike her own, all under the skeptical eye of Inia. One leg folded elegantly over the other to reveal delectable flesh due to the floaty slit of her aqua blue skirt, she explains, "I shan't accompany you, for he has given me permission to join Saga and her orchestra's summer tour of song among the realm. I know not how long I shall be in her company nor if I shall see you in between performances because she wishes to play for so many villages in a single season. That being said, she plans us to leave for Uncle Aegir's kingdom by high noon, so I have come to say farewell to my favorite sister."

"I am your only sister." Earning a much too farce grin in return for her liking, the artiste sister questions, "Do you know of the matter of which he wants to discuss with me?"

"Something about the festival of _Jera_." Idunn notes facetiously, the exasperated eye roll she's known for flutters voluminous lashes to kiss her cheekbones. "That festival was fun when we were gals but politics has managed to taint the merriment. Tis so drab now. Nerthus is excited to partake in tradition as we once were, but given her ignorance for diplomacy and glee for life, I doubt she may be aware of this misfortune and come to loath it within a second century as we have. Tis her first time transporting outside of Vanaheimr so I bid you luck returning her home with ease, although I feel you shan't need it, seeing as you are fortune itself." Refocusing on the predicament of their separation laid before them, she casts back to Inia standing expectantly with crossed arms. Idunn smirks at her owlish introvert of a kin. "Know that while I am gone, you may borrow my wardrobe if need be." At this, the implement of her double meaning becomes apparent with a suggestive wiggle of her pale eyebrows, a twinkle of promiscuity curving her pleasantly symmetrical features. "Or if you feel spontaneous when we were young. _Ah_, yes. Think I have forgotten you sneaking into my wardrobe to try on my circlets and jewels believing I would not notice? Trust me, I noticed."

Inia purses her lips morosely, a flippant habit of her mannerisms and chooses to simply ignore the embarrassing memory she is sure Idunn recalls fondly, "How thoughtful of you, Idunn. Thank you."

"I aim to please."

_Story of her existence_, her mind retorts in response, agreeing.

"Do you not have anything else to do but distract me? Or is the reason you invaded my chambers because your heart of gold did not wish to burden a page boy with such riveting information?"

Growing a grin at the jesting tension in the air, Idunn shrugs bare shoulders, attempting innocence, "Truthfully, I am offering you a hand in primping preparation since _Jera_'s held either between the mother realm or Asgard and seeing that we hosted last century it means you are to travel to the realm of eternal."

"And?" A smoky voice probes, unimpressed.

"_And_, you shall be in the company of the royal family. Thor's company, Inia. _Thor!_ I must admit, I am a bit bemused of Father allowing me to accompany Saga, but I find comfort in the reassurance that you would not be able to reciprocate affections of a suitor even if you desired so. It leaves the fair, worthy prince for myself. Because of your vow, of course."

Inia by nature is not a violent person and thinks with her senses foremost but upon quipping Heill and donning her armors, instinct akin to a Valkyrie takes control on the battlefield and at this moment, she aches to break her sister's nose for rubbing something so precious and damning in her face to blatantly insult her without care.

Instead of bittering the blonde's offer and farewell by carrying out her fantasy, she subconsciously comforts herself in preparation to indulge her haughtily extrovert of a kin, theoretically embracing the lone soul who could ever show her affection: herself. "Right. I accept your offer and as such, you may help by feeding me first meal as I bathe and may choose the style of my hair for the day by Ursa's hand."

Together the twin goddess' tread to the adjoined water closet trimmed artisanally in several mystic gemstones including aventurine for balancing erratic emotions, crystal quartz to bring clarity of mind and thought, blue kainite for stimulating cohesive psychic awareness throughout the entire body, sodalite so inner sight is and knowledge is awakened and lastly, selenite to stimulate, develop, and sharpen one's telepathic eye for the clearest state of mind attainable.

The knotted perimeter of her empire waist becomes undone, allowing blemished fabric to pool at her feet. Once in the in-ground bath of scaling waters and inhaling a blend of argan cleansing oil hinting scents of vanilla and clove, she submerges below the heated surface, white hair fanning every which way around her, then rises with smooth and hydrated strands. To her lack of surprise and shock, she finds her sibling pedestalled on an iron wrought stool which her handmaid typically occupies when massaging her scalp, relaxing and opening herself vulnerably for the stone's mystic properties to take hold. Trying her hardest to not make a face of annoyed unwelcome and simply go the route of serenity and collection she's maintained since birth, she goes about further cleansing herself knowing whatever is gnawing at her stony-faced sister may indeed make itself known with patience.

Long before any words are exchanged, Inia's handmaiden, Ursa, announces her presence with a knock on door, gathering both women's attention then bows her head respectfully in greeting. "Good day, my ladies," Voice gentle as the Vanir sea kissing the morning glow of pink sandy shores yet strong alike the rocks said turquoise waters crash and consume, Ursa gifts them each a polite smile that makes Lady Idunn quirk a grin and Lady Inia smirk warmly, effectively casting aside the tension searing their gazes. "First meal is in the salon for whenever you are ready, my lady. Lady Idunn, is there anything I may fetch you?"

"No. I had first meal with Father while this one slept in."

The smallest of smiles tugging Ursa's mouth, her mouse-like nose tickles in the delicate scents of the sweet Vanir cleansing oils permeating her charge currently swimming in a giant basin. She clasps deftly hands behind her back, gently bowing her neck. "Very well. My lady, would you care for you hair to be cleansed?"

Creating a bubble equally as large as her sister's airhead mannerisms, she levitates it to pop in the face of her greatest ally and foe and giggling at the sour expression scorning the promiscuous sorceress trying to wipe away the _sedir_-made stickiness from her prestigious ringlets. "No thank you, I have my dearest sister for that this morn."

Weaves of tacky hair tangled between her chartreuse glowing fingers as she tries to rid the enchantment, Idunn squares a scowl at her, not caring for the underlying sardonic nature in Inia's voice adding insult to injury.

"Ursa,"

Said handmaid reappears in the tall doorway, as patient and calm as Avindr in Mjolnir's storm, curiosity defines the smile lines around her wise eyes.

"I care to eat while I bathe, instead."

"Of course. Just a moment." She surges from the room graceful as a waterfall, the regulatory gray frock of a servant keeping her modest and efficient as she services through her days.

Playing mindlessly with her surroundings by forming soapy shapes and freezing sections of water after cleansing her hair and Idunn massaging her temples, Inia reveals a cerulean blue hand scored with the raised designs of her heritage, observes it for a moment, then shakes away the physical attribute until the honeycomb of her ivory flesh returns hued in pink undertones. Cerise red also recede to their regular pinkish eyes. Feeling indignation on her and knowing its scrutinizing source, she skips the option to glance upward for confirmation. Unashamed and cherishing the memory of their feminine parent, Inia queries, "Why do you gaze upon me as so?"

"Because you are ridiculous." With a scoff and a mystical sparkle of chartreuse dotting her fingertips, the mischief is stripped from caramel locks, allowing her to shake and cascade silk curls behind her bare shoulders. "Always have been and always you shall be ridiculous, Inia."

Tis no easy feat to enjoy someone who gives the impression of tolerating you for the sake of others nor does anything they offer to do feel genuine and true. Inia loves Idunn, they shared a womb and read one another easier than anyone across the realms, but a voice of instinctual truth burning in her core warns her to guard her heart around her spiteful, vindictive, and promiscuous counterpart. Able to see the truths of another no matter how skilled in the art of deception one may be, Inia recognizes the grief that tarnished Idunn's soul planted by the seed of their late mother. Resentment is potted there too and pining for self-destruction, rather Idunn is aware of its blossoming ire and cynicism or not. Of course, Inia shall do all she can to help and heal her but there is only so much she is willing to do because Idunn must want and accept her sorrow to overcome it; knowing Idunn, she cares not for anything less than perfection and sees herself as so. She plans to bring more of the revelation into the light upon Idunn's return from Saga's tour so she and their Father can be her foundation and hopefully, they could all soothe the scar on their souls as a family and move onward in their Mother's memory. Hopefully. The last thing she wants is let Gaea and Freyja of Idunn be aware of these things, revealing her as a possible threat of the realm, and banish her or confine her to mandatory labor intense duties for punishment that may worsen the condition instead of alieving the emotional and mental wreckage. No, Inia does not wish that dark sorrow upon her fiercest, most formidable of enemies. Not even Karnilla deserves as much and Norns help her, all are wary of the wickedness that is the Enchantress Supreme of Nornheimr. In the meantime, all she can do is commune and pray to the Norns for a fateful sign and construct her next step from there depending on the paths revealed to her.

"Whatever you say, Idunn. In my eyes, we are even on account of your careless words."

With a soft clearing of her throat, the petite lady-in-waiting reenters their graces and places a polished platter adorned with sweet bread abreast marmalade for spread, an arrangement of savory berries for protein, and a garnet crystal chalice of tea already tempered to her Lady's liking. "If you have no need of me, I shall go about my duties in your chambers unless you summon me."

"Much appreciated, Ursa."

After a long moment as Inia examines her legs that are propped up and flattened on the edge of the tub that also happens to be marble flooring and nibbling a berry here or there, her back facing the bowl and fingers rolling methodically up and down in slow motions on her calves to release tension in her hamstrings accumulated from years of riding Avindr, she lifts her gaze to the musical accent of her best friend, accepting the steaming chalice when offered.

"Inia, nightmares are dreams too. I wish not to leave bitterness between us, we are twins after all so if you need me for whatever need be, search for me within you and I shall be there. Always. All right?"

_She may be the more self-righteous one between the pair of us but part of her still cares for those amongst her. This is good, there is hope for her yet. She does not realize that she has become dependent on me but one day she shall see that I never abandoned her, that I never cast her aside and so, I shall allow her to be helpful to me so she herself can feel valued._

Swallowing a hearty sip of honeyed milk, she nods once in her agreeance, smiling. "All right."

Before her dear sister has the pleasure of finishing her comforting beverage, Idunn deftly whisks it away, barely stifling a sharp ring of laughter with a wide grin due to the stunned and annoyed expression gracing her second self. She dismisses the suggestion of meal altogether with a simple nudge of her manicured toes pushing aside the platter, her heeled sandals lay unhindered near the stool.

"I am famished, you know."

"Then take something small once you take leave. Now out of the bath, you stench of sweets."

A frowning Inia glares, not enjoying the prospect of her meal pulled from her fitful appetite. Following the command by falling into the plush linen that wraps and tangles snugly around her, Inia raises an eyebrow, stepping up a miniscule stairway to be at eyelevel as scented water mystically combusts into a mass of bubbles. "And this displeases you, how?"

"I claimed 'wonderful', did I not?" Nearly bursting with amusement, the promiscuous goddess of eternal youth practically skips into an open archway leading to an expansive wardrobe stocked with the full spectrum of purple organized by purpose and practicality, style and fabric, shades and complimentary pieces, and the armory mantled upon the back wall. "Norns, Inia. No matter how many times I venture into your closet, I am always amazed by how many types of purples there are."

Electing to not respond due to simply having not anything to comment, she pays a glance behind a nude shoulder at her unofficial style advisor and glares at the most provocative gown Idunn lays her eyes on as a mouth parts to defend the risqué choice but hushes the instant Inia shoos the satiny fabric out of her hand. "Absolutely not. Now, please hand me my slip and exit my wardrobe. I shall be out shortly."

"You are no fun. Absolutely drab." Arms folding and highlighting her chest once again, Freyja's niece pouts a plump, rosy lower lip but does as required in the form of tossing a scrap of beige silk upon a damp head.

Linen circling her feet and smooth material sliding overhead to cover her assets and end an inch above her thighs, Inia retorts factually, "You are a nuisance."

"Fair enough." Idunn reflects the jesting smirk and literally skips away, straying her arms out at her sides to touch each article of clothing as she gallops, humming a hymn of their Vanir songstress, Saga.

"Strange woman." Nodding fondly and grinning, she finds herself staring longing at the gown staged on a silhouette Idunn fawns over every time she attempts to dress or hound her. Quickly, Inia dismisses it with a headshake to prevent dwelling over her habitual "_what could have been_" or "_what shall never be_" thoughts and prepares for the day in a usual flowy violet frock, keeping her promise and tolerating Idunn to structure her hair in any fashion.

-O-

Entering the solarium of Vana Palace quieter than the gentlest gusts of summer winds, Inia glides an eye over the crystal clear ceiling domed in the shape of a triangle with countless sheer fabrics masquerading as walls fluttering and flagging in tune to the breath of air skating through the open barriers of a massive floral house. All around the house in every direction she turns, six orchards sheath various breed of fruit and medicinal herb, encompassing the hundreds of acers in its entirety. While these fertile soils are fortunate in their ability to spawn such practicalities unlike the dirt of Midgard, Inia basks the rays of the green realm's strong sunshine feeling prisms of light dance upon her skin's surface, and nonchalantly drags fingertips across the feather light caress of waving white fabric whose catalyst is at the pinnacle of the solarium's inner steeple. Her sight transfers from the plump health of abundant youth her people, the Vanir, were so prized for and stops at the tall, muscular physic of a scarlet haired immortal sporting the colors of blue as his back faces her, his eyes no doubt channeling to and fro Idunn's horticulturists migrating amongst the isles of flora here and there. Gently as can be, she strides to flank her giver-of-life, not mimicking his resting stance of his much larger but nonetheless ginger hands folded neatly behind his back in favor of Inia knitting her arms across her chest. She supposes he sensed her aura long ago because he does not flinch nor pay her a polite glance not unlike Freyja's callous, his twin sister.

_Then again, he was never one to fright easily for there is a reason he is the god of peace after all_, she reasons_. Those who chance oppose him often find they are slow to anger and all malevolent intentions premediated or not are a thing of the past. I have seen my father render a Surt powerless simply with a placid gaze to smother the rage and violence of its nature thus creating a harmonic peace and loyalty. Tis truly incredible. _

"Father."

"Inia." His baritone is a deeply rich satin, a sound they both know comforts the ears it touches, soothing the stresses of the most troubled, restless souls.

_A voice truly alike honeycomb and eyes verily conveying so. Norns, how can Idunn not see beyond her grief when our father is the personification of peace? Perhaps she did not inherit the calm that I had? If so, how unfortunate_.

Though she foresaw nothing happening to Her Highness Nerthus of Vanaheimr nor the Imperial Queen Gaea and Imperial King Vanlandi, she believes her sire's affinity of collective calmness has served him well for the past three millennia in the name of politics due to his place in the royal council but a bigger part of her feels he could make a wise, fine king of the green _sedir_ realm. But this is a call of dreams, seeing as her youngest Aunt Nerthus is the crowned princess and shall rule as Imperial Queen next due to Freyja's rejection of the throne in favor of her Valkyrior and Freyr's disinterest to rule lone. If only Inia's mother were here to head the throne beside her husband and king, Nerthus could further grow in experience opposed to being rushed to her birthright and duty to the realm. While Inia converses and accompanies the princess often, Idunn does not so much bat a lash at the prospect and goes about her rituals of duty cooing over immortal apples and ravishing any noble lord of the council and their sons. She is sure Nerthus shall make a fine queen, she has seen her upon the throne in a premonition after all, though what distresses Inia is the scorn in her fuchsia sapphire stare within a lethal ambiance of fear and ruthlessness she embodied.

Inia grimaces at the implication, knowing the movement goes noticed by the solitary man in her life. Neck craning up and left, she finds a pair of pink garnet gems softly examining each fleeting emotion gracing her matching upturned gems observing him trace the natural arc of her manicured eyebrows as a small frown tugs the plumpness of her rose pink lips until they form a stern line of stress and uncertainty, following the angles of her heart shape face centered by an ideally slim button nose framed by high cheekbones and the most delicate of barely-there clef chins that mimic Idunn's much too closely for her taste any given day thus ending their similarities.

"What did you see?"

Apprehensive to share her words before he has the chance to present his reasoning for summoning her, Inia sighs but does not remove her gaze. "I would prefer if you begin first, seeing as you summoned me."

"Very well." He nods, easily returning to the orchards. "_Jera_'s Festival is to be held in Asgard this century. Nerthus is obligated to be a prime guest of the AllFather and AllMother just as they were in our kingdom last century, being so that she needs a guardian to shadow her during her stay. I request your duty as guardian to protect Her Highness of Vana as she partakes in the merriment of spring's rebirth and health, strengthening our united realms." He cants slightly, observing her reaction in his peripheral sight. "I understand if you have reservations doing this since your last journey to Asgard was less than savory, but I also urge you to take in account that the princes are not those you remember them to be. Twas not long ago I journeyed to Odin's court in place of Freyja and I am pleased to say they have grown into noble men just as you have grown into a priestess of our home. You are a fine woman of valor, Inia, and I know somewhere in Valhalla your Mother is proudly smiling at all you have accomplished in your duty as harbinger and of all you have done for the commonwealth of each realm."

Taking a moment to process his bidding, she unconsciously crinkles the lavender sheer bell sleeves of her violet frock, and lightly pinches her nails into the flesh of her biceps through the flowy fabric to plant her sturdily in reality.

It has been several hundred centuries since her mother departed them for Valhalla. Her Father, bless him, can hardly speak her name without heartache etching his chiseled features and moist eyes but somehow lost upon her, he manages to share a memory of his beloved on occasion whenever in a particularly nostalgic mood. Inia has a feeling this is one of those moments given his slightly teary eyes and shaky smile as his face angles to the sky, searching for hints of his bride's compassionate aura or the telltale scent of the snowy wasteland she emanated. In reality, Inia misses her Mother's smoky voice lullabying in the tongue of the Frost Giants and the weight of her pale arms reassuring her in the face of fear born of night terrors as a child. She misses the cool, motherly touch of nails combing through her scalp and feeling the anticipation burn in her belly, so much that she practically bounced in her lap for the reveal of a new complicated braid of beauty originally curated by the icy world her Mother emerged from.

Inia whispers, "I know she smiles upon us all. I miss her dearly." Sensing a minor pull on her hair, she investigates with a cant of her head at her father. She smiles forlornly at the sentiment of him rubbing the tail of a thick mermaid braid between his massive thumb and index finger, his eyes memorizing every strand of her inherited hair color and curly texture as if she shall slip through his fingers again and become forever lost to him.

By the Norns, there was no way in Hel she was going to allow her sweet, dear father Freyr ever lose another precious to him if she could help it. And Inia can do more than help it, she can prevent deaths with her prophecies.

"As do I." Dejectedly, he drops her braid and returns his hands to their regulatory place clasped at his lower back.

The crisp, slightly sweet air of the orchards kiss the god and goddess for several moments, caressing and soothing their stresses not unlike a phantom woman whispering reassuring nothings of encouragement to their souls, efficiently clearing the air of its thick brush of emotion brought on by the mention of Gerd, the woman lost to both husband and daughter.

Inia blinks fro the gatherers bathing in the mid-morning light nursing a fresh harvest in the northern orchard the pair face that has yet to be plucked for their enchanted purposes to the first only man she is ever permitted to love and care for. To her contentment, Freyr turns his head and looks directly at her, she perceiving his bright gems had vanquished flooding grief with preservation and an underlying curiosity in its place. "If this is guard duty then why has Freyja not taken it upon herself as a Valkyrie? She commands the reminder their reign."

"You have experience in the realm of eternal and you are one of the few Nerthus abides. Freyja would be here if not for a mishap in Muspelheim. Cease gazing upon myself as you are. Tis no concern of yours so worry not, Norns knows you worry enough for the realm as a whole, daughter." He exhales heavily enough that it puffs the rose gold chainmail decorating his muscular chest and rises the mountainous shoulders shadowed by a pastel blue cloak as the rest of him is touched by onyx black. "… I am sorry you must worry yourself ill to begin with and know that if I could, I would remove Norn _sedir_ from you. You and your sister are my heart, I adore you both more than you can ever fathom, and I only wish the best for you both."

Sometime as he spoke, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into him and although she delights the private affection, she is unsure if he is aware of his own desperate declaration.

Cheek to his metallic breast, she drinks the calming beats of his warm, compassionate heart and gazes beyond the orchards to the pink sanded beaches and turquoise blue waters rolling and crashing distant roars that notoriously lulled her to blissful sleep as a child and continues to do so today. Flickering her thickly lashed gaze to the moisture of her words smudging the shine of his armor in a coat of breath, she purposely wraps her arms as far as they can physically circle the trunk of his torso. "I know you would. Though, I believe if I had the chance to remove it that I would not." Snorting a laugh at the sudden slack state of his arms rounding her waist and the disbelieving drop of a jaw on her crown, she feels his clef chin realign itself on atop her head after a considering few seconds. "Honestly. It has been with me so long, I know not what it is to live without fear and restlessness and I believe l that I would not know how to comfort myself without it. Yes, tis an atrocious burden to bear and this may sound strange, but it is _mine_. It and my horrors are mine alone and dare I say, familiar. The Harbinger is me and I am it and I could not live without a part of myself no matter how atrocious." Inia snuggles deeper in his warm, safe, sturdy chest, unsure of the next time she shall be able to embrace him in such a way so openly, feeling her lashes tap the tops of her cheeks, inhaling his fruity sweet, slightly salty masculine musk of pink beaches. Her eyes only pop open when his distinct voice rumbles through his chest, vibrating against her face, breaking her content enough for her to retract so they are no longer flush but still remains at arm's length.

"After a half a millennia of life, you accept it?"

She recognizes the mix of wonderment, pride, and awe lacing his voice but Inia being Inia, her attention grapnels to the overall disgruntlement swirling in his stare above all. Immediately, she means to soothe the worry alike one would a serpent bite by sucking out the venom and taking the pain away to bear it herself so he cannot. Voice stern with acceptance but her grip on his forearms delicate, she lowers her eyes to focus much too hard on the satin material of her usual off-the-shoulder neckline adorned in gold thread. "I must. Believe me or not, my status has saved mine and the lives of my comrades on more than one occasion. What my _sedir_ has manifested into, being able to witness events and time before it comes to pass, is a very desired and favored ability, one of which has permitted me diplomatic immunity in every court of the realms. Well, accept for Midgard, they think me a bad omen and tried to burn me on a stake before and nearly succeeded. Either way, insults or compliments, I shan't let anyone in any realm stop me from speaking the truth of my ability because it does not just affect me, but life in its entirety."

Rubbing absent circles in the thinner skin between her index finger and thumb with his own massive hand adorned by many jeweled rings, he exhales a shaky breath, alerting his dearest Inia of the devastation still raw in his heart. "You are wise beyond your years." He chokes back a sob, swallowing thickly to dreadfully ward away the sadness reddening his tear-brimmed eyes. Broad arms circle her for a second time, only this time he bows his forehead on her crown and silently apologizes for weeping in the exceptional Jotunn braid Idunn wove for his precious daughter. He breathes barely above a whisper, "Gods, I wish she could have seen you and your sister."

"One day." Her own smoky voice reassures.

"You have seen our perish?" Eyes no longer teary but touches still ginger and maternal, he creates space between them, connecting his attention solely on the unique and exceptional Vanir treasure and moves the dense braid of white hair aside her shoulder while reading the stoic but longsuffering emotion cresting her profile.

"I have seen many deaths of those around me and of those realms away of who I have not met, but what kind of harbinger would I be if I did not do all in my power to prevent it?" Eyebrows pinching thoughtfully, her head tilts slightly, resembling an inquisitive bird. Her line of sight slides upward and closes the distance between their petty height differences. "Suppose what I am saying is that in every circumstance of danger, there is the potential for someone to perish and yes, I see them, but I refuse to allow death to happen because of my neglect of duty. So to answer you: yes, I have numerous times. Do you understand?"

"Yes." He nods, releasing his sentimental hold on her altogether and faithfully resumes his resting stance. Calm as can be, he mimics her pondering habits via tilt of a head and confirms, "Shall you be Nerthus' guardian?"

A gentle smirk touches her mouth, their similar mannerisms not lost upon the Freyrdottir. "Of course. Someone must protect our future queen."

"Good. I shall speak with Skirnir and have him send word to the AllFather of our acceptance of his invitation." As before, he fully faces the orchards to oversee their harvest development and see the physicality of Idunn's purpose flourish before his eyes. "You shall hear word from the messenger no later than dusk with a response, I am sure."

"As I recall, the House of Odin is quite prompt and rightfully so. Is there anything more I can do?"

"Yes, you may tell me one thing." He watches her from the corner of his sight, all signs of tender casualness between father and daughter evidently expired.

Formalities in place, expectant and interested by his tone, Inia arcs an eyebrow, silently encouraging him to speak his mind.

"I sensed you were awake before dawn. What have you to warn me of, Harbinger?"

"Secure and protect the treasure vault. That is all I am obligated to share. My apologizes." She retorts truthfully, her voice unflinching and uncompromising of her demands but regretful she snapped shrewdly into duty without tact in the face of her only living parent, her neck bows for forgiveness with conviction. His easy laugh surprises her incredibly so that she would not be stunned later if her neck suffers from whiplash. Also, she is sure her eyes are wide and round very much alike an alabaster-tipped doe of Niflheimr.

"No need for apologies, Inia. I understand the Norns' complexity more than you may believe."

"Well, you are a Vanlandison so I suppose that makes sense. Somehow."

Traces of amusement dimpling his cheeks, he ushers her off warmly. "Indeed. You may go on about your day. I shall see you at last meal and hopefully Nerthus has a preference of when she wishes to join the festivities in our sister realm."

"Hopefully. Good day, Father."

"Good day, Inia."

-O-

In the eve of last meal, twas discussed among the gods and goddesses of the royal Vanir family and sealed by the command of Inia's eldest Aunt Gaea that Nerthus' wish to depart for the Bifrost site would be carried out at high noon the following day when the sun is brightest and the winds are calmest and the lowest threat of adversary presides. Skirnir was present, seeing as he is Vanir bred and has lived in Vana Palace before he could walk and owns the important title as messenger of the realms. Despite no blood relation, Inia considers him a brother in arms and trains with him religiously seeing as his swiftness presents her a challenge unlike anyone she has crossed in her lengthy life. Freyr, ever the politician, offered his gal of a sister his services when she is called upon Asgardian policies but was quickly refused by the family's youngest member. Inia could tell her father did not care much for the crowned princess' surely rejection but he bowed his head, obliging her wishes and went about consuming his savory crustacean dish and proceeded to drink an entire flagon of wine, a wretched skill she noticed he was accomplishing quicker with time. For that moment, she wished Freyja were there so someone brave enough could have swatted the goblet clear across the room and shamed her brother for his ever-growing drunken habits. Uncle Vanlandi, the Imperial King, sat on the opposing end of the dining hall from his queen and as the jolly man he is, he ordered his introvert of a niece to truly attempt to enjoy the festivities for once. Everyone tittered a laugh, much to Inia's exasperation; she further stuffed herself with fruits and seafood, expertly ignoring the lingering, spirited leers of her relatives until, alas, the subject shifted to Saga's success of song and Idunn's support of the orchestra tour by Skirnir's considerate suggestion. They even belted a hymn of praise for the songstress goddess, gaining the scowl of Inia who rather shove daggers in her ears than hear the distorted voices of her non-harmonic kin. Truly, being the fairest race of the Nine, one would think all its residents have the talent of song but they would be incredibly wrong. The handful of voices she enjoys from the green realm happen to be that of her Mother, Saga, and Freyja alone. Asgard's response came in the form of Skirnir skittering into the throne room at nightfall, sharing the news with Gaea who sent him directly to Nerthus. The giddy princess then decided twas a grand idea to appear in Inia's chambers in attempt to frighten her but of course failed due to her older niece's prophetic _sedir_, then embraced the realm's priestess in thanks for her guardian duty before retiring.

Currently in a field of bladed glass primped with natural wildflowers at the Bifrost site the following day with Nerthus caressing the temple of Vanaheimr's famed owl griffon, Avindr, Inia tilts at the pastel purple sky hinting none of the sparkling stars Asgard is known to live beneath due to the Sea of Space encompassing their flat mother realm.

Skirnir is squatting on a tree stump appeasing his everlasting pallet with a floral honeysuckle from a bushel within the woodlands westward of their position, which on horseback would be a three hour ride yet quicker than a blink of an eye for the mystic messenger. "Either you are beside yourself with joy or you are dreading this so much you may as well perish. I suppose the latter is mostly likely the case, seeing as your lovely mouth has thinned and your eyes are cold, which is a difficult task in of itself considering how bright our eyes are. Inia, has my voice fallen on deaf ears?"

She makes a universal humming sound of acknowledgement, signaling her despondence and distracted mind tending to the scene of the night before. Of the peridot eyes she dreamt the previous night.

She had never dreamt of these soul windows before nor had she ever seen such a beautifully vivid color of green in all her life. In a very Inia-like fashion, she woke from her sign of fate just after the aura of the mysterious individual offered a pale hand sheathing artisan-like dexterous fingers she distinctively remembers she thought were fascinating and in her dream, she saw herself regarded the physicality of the gesture with a small frown of suspicious and dread. Then her hand slid into his and the nightmare began. At their smallest touch of her fingertips gliding into his palm caused an extreme drop in temperature as skin glided skin, pulling a cool shudder from her as confusion, shock and terror swam in peridot gems; simultaneously, her speechless mixed with the astonishment and mortification of the mysterious figure froze at the sight of their azure complexion lined by intricate ridges of separate birth crests on smooth, icy flesh. Their cerise, alike blood. Twas then she sprang awake in a mess of linen, her arm unconsciously extended to the opposite end of the mattress as if her body recalled her dance partner beyond the strangeness of the premonition. She planted a hand on her drumming heart thundering against her ribcage, sucking in greedy breaths, wiping the sweat from her brow on the back of her arm, and rose to rinse the negative energy off her profile. Then she relinquished control of her emotions and gave into instincts, once again waking before dawn wearing a bedgown stained by monochromatic paints and the several variances of greens she perceived clear as day forming those striking eyes. In the aftermath, she decided dancing is _bad_. Dancing is _romantic_. Romance is _not_ an option and cannot be a dream of hers in any shape or form, including premonitions, so she told herself she _would not_ think of them again. Yet here she is awaiting Prince Thor and company to arrive at the Bifrost so Heimdall can transport she and Nerthus to Asgard. As usual, the premonitions beckon questions but the only one she cares to have answered is why the person was mortified and appalled at the sight of a Jotunn? She realizes that they may not be the most favored races of the realms due to their savage appearance, ruthlessness, and cunning ways, though they have beauty, love and passion in their culture just akin to any other culture. Birthed a product of Jotunn-Vanir ancestry and being welcoming into King Laufey's kingdom with a kindness she never expected from the alpha Jotunn, she knows this firsthand. In the past, Idunn has made herself available to the sexual culture of the Jotnar and still adamantly insists to accompany Inia to the icy realm whenever the Harbinger is needed in the name of diplomacy for the royal courts.

"Hm?"

"Fine, be that way. Though I believe you are making a fuss over nothing. All shall be well, Inia. How can you not see this?"

Flouncing narrowed eyes of incredulity on her bold and impulsive friend, she ignores the mighty puff of air smacking a braid equal to her arm's thickness behind her shoulder due to Avindr's feathered wings stretching and flapping across the circle of rune symbols burnt into the grassy knoll eons ago. "You forget who you speak to, Skirnir. I see all, far beyond Heimdall's vigilant craft, Gaea and the AllMother's _sedir_ combined." Her neck tips to the sky mildly blushingly. "My apologizes if I have offended you, Heimdall, I meant no harm and speak factually, of course." Her sight follows the remnants of a final honeysuckle flying through the air in Skirnir's dismissal then glints back to the chestnut brunette roaming his eyes from the cropped violet tunic layered below a semi-sweetheart rose gold armored accents with a low-rise belt linked to a thigh holster highlighting her strong yet nimble figure in onyx leather trousers that modestly hug every curve to over-the-knee boots dusted in rosy gold completing her lightest warrior garb. She glares. "Cease gazing upon me as you are or turn your head elsewhere." Her fingers glide along the blush metallic of her arm bracers meant for combat, artisanally forged in fire and generally steered for fashion purposes.

Blushing recklessly, he blinks downward, clearly shamed by her authoritative tone, and exhales frustration, regarding Inia free of lust's bondage. "I am simply pointing out that you may be worrying too much, Inia. I understand that you cannot tell everything the Norn Fates reveal to you, but why must you not let another shoulder the weight of a powerful burden with you? To lessen the stress?" He rambles, "Midgardians believe stress ages you and AllFather knows if we appeared and told them our lifespan they would perish from shock. It's almost pathetic how fragile they are, it nearly makes them endearing."

Midgardians may be the weakest and most primitive of the realms, yes, but having been there for a century and dwelling by their extensive varieties of cultures and lands within their kingdoms, she cannot dismiss their resilience nor their courage. Never in all her years has she seen a brand of bravery the mortal man wields in battle, knowing they are destined for death yet they press onward despite fear. She admires them and is inspired each time at the thought of them upon reflection of her own titles. Princess. Harbinger. Priestess. Truth. Fortune. If mortal man can do it, then so can she.

"Please, do hush." Scoping the skies for the telltale tear of abrupt iridescent light swirling a thousand colors in the atmosphere, Inia removes her elbows off armored bent knees and cants her neck to the harmonious laughter of Nerthus pouncing and dashing at the griffon reciprocating her agile movements, both squawking and rumbling joy. The simplicity of caramel blonde hair spilling behind her celebratory armor colored by passionate reds not unlike Idunn is a harsh reminder, an emotional slap to the face, of how peculiar she appears in a family headed by the fairest of blondes or richest of reds.

If she knew not of her heritage, Inia surely would believe she favors her Jotunn-self than Vanir since she is the sole member to inherit her mother's stern but feminine button nose, strongly arched eyebrows, the heavy breasts and wide hips of a Jotunn female, a smoky voice to match, and the snowy white hair of her great-grandmother Skadi. Assuring her oddities, Inia is much taller and more solid than Freyja, Nerthus, and Idunn's supple softness of absolute femininity that often gains them so much attention while she is regarded with no more than a usual smile of politeness or a Vanir bow of salutation. Not to be confused, Inia is relieved for the lack of temptation around her but she supposes it would not be so horrible to be acknowledged for her individual beauty every now and again. Tis not as if she is a horror to gaze upon, oh Gaea no, but she realized at an early age that while she does closely resemble her twin, she also carries a very specific exotic appearance unlike the Vanir about her. Inia accepted this long ago, but it has yet to grapnel the attention of any suitors. Tis not as if she could accept their courtship proposals anyway due to her vow, but again, it would be an indulgence to be proposed. Perhaps once.

"Worry not, it shan't be that –"

Internal self-doubts, wonder, and stresses of her previous night sloshing her nerves similar to a rain shower brought on by Mjolnir, Inia knits her arms, commanding, "Hush, Skirnir. Please."

"Inia –"

"While I respect your optimism and hopefulness of the situation, I appreciate you, I do, but it does not change the truth of what is to come. Now, lay it to rest so I may focus." Inclining over her shoulder at Avindr pawing greenery near a swaying princess weaving flowers in the mythic creature's fur by her ability of geo-psionic enchantments, he cocks his round owl head curiously at Skirnir and herself, flicking a furry beige tail around with interest. Inia glances to the man god on the stump cupping his hands to his mouth waggling his fingers, serenading variations of bird calls to the giant beast. Quickly, she shoves Skirnir off the trimmed trunk and snorts a laugh at the dissatisfaction gleaning his fair, very eastern features. Sensing Avindr nearing through their soul-tie, she rests her face in its neutral placidity, her sneer pinning Skirnir in a patch of pink flowers. "I cannot lose sight of Nerthus, she is the future of Vanaheimr."

"I understand duties. I meant no harm. Forgive me, my lady?" He holds a particularly wrinkled flower up to her and whacks it lazily across her lips a couple times until her resolve breaks into a smile of sunshine.

She sighs, lifting the corners of her mouth and rubs the velvet valley above the beak gently nuzzling a home beneath her arm, yearning attention. "Yes, all is forgiven. Just keep an eye on Freyr for me and try to keep Idunn out of trouble, shall you?"

Avindr unhinges beak from jaw and squawks his objection at the conversing pair for being disregarded. Wide, analytical eyes having the shape of poultry suddenly thins to dagger-like precision, silting more alike their feline counterpart. He extends a feathered neck levelly with Inia to unflinchingly capture her gaze. He glares.

"Oh, do not set such a gaze upon me."

"Good gods! I highly believe none is better than a griffon giving you a foul look! Only you, Inia!" Skirnir slaps a hand on his thigh, laughter squinting his almond shaped eyes as the griffon rattles a rhythmic tickle deep in its windpipe as the glorified runner wheezes breathlessly.

"Yes, yes. Have your laugh at my expense, Runner."

"_Courier_." Playful defiance shadowing his eyes, he parts his mouth to speak but stills when the griffon points his golden beak to the sky and hoots a mighty caw. "How in Vana can he sense when the Bifrost is to be activated?" Rising, his hand automatically seeks the black satin feathers consisting the owl's chest and massages the pads of his fingers soothingly in the beige fur of the lion's shoulder blades and flanks exactly how the magnificent beast favors it. Skirnir also tries to dust off the flowers woven through his fur but receives a small growl of opposition. Quickly, he returns to absently massaging the creature.

A content purr ensues, though the feline eyes never forsake the celestial light encroaching closer birthed worlds away.

Inia stands, assuming a calm stature in the center of the rune site etched in the marked mound, joining a nervous Nerthus beaming anticipation. "I believe Heimdall discovered a kindred spirit in the griffon. I shall ask him for you to be certain. Be well, Skirnir. Avindr, behave."

"You have my word to vigil over those dearest to you." Skirnir chuckles kindly, nods a farewell, and smiles fondly at the griffon sitting prettily on his hind legs devotedly scoping the sky.

Inia downturns to her princess, an encouraging smile of sympathy swimming in her bright eyes.

Nerthus must sense a gaze upon her because she angles her neck, finding and visibly relaxing at the sight of her priestess' collective aura. "I have never traveled beyond Vanaheimr."

Well aware of the young princess' virgin predicament of inter-space passage, she advises, "Regard from clenching and whatever you do, do not move. Hold onto me if you wish."

Wordlessly, Nerthus does as told and winds both arms around her elder niece's waist, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Carry on, Heimdall."

**AUTHORS NOTE****: ****_Italics are Norse Viking dialect/cultural phrases + character's thoughts + dramatic dialog in context_****. I'm on the market 4 Beta so if you're interested, please PM me. CC during R&R is VERY APPRECIATED! For each Chapter, I will add more pre-determined ****Face Claims**** as they thicken the plot in this fashion. I favor the use of ****Face Claims**** not 4 the model/singer/actor's possibility and/or ability 2 do these character's justice IRL, but as a physical reference not only 2 accurately describe my OCs but visually 4 the readers as well. I don't own Marvel or Norse Mythos, just my OCs :) **

**~_ Norn Vision/Foresight_ _as Harbinger_~**

**LADIES****: **

**Catherine Zeta-Jones - Karnilla of Asgard, Queen of Nornheimr, the Mother of Darkness and Supreme Enchantress **

**Charlize Theron - Princess Freyja Vanlandidottir of Vanaheimr, Fertility Goddess of Sex, Beauty and Love; First Valkyrie Freyja of AllFather's Valkyrior **

**Halston Sage - Princess Nerthus Vanlandidottir of Vanaheimr, Fertility Nature Goddess**

**Ivy Levan - Princess Inia Freyrdottir of Vanaheimr, Goddess of Truth and Fortune; Priestess Inia | Princess Idunn Freyrdottir of Vanaheimr, Fertility Goddess of Eternal Youth **

**Julie Andrews - Imperial Queen Gaea of Vanaheimr, Fertility Goddess **

**Milla Jovovich - Gerd of Jotunheimr, Goddess of Winter; Dutchess Gerd Freyrkvan of Vanaheimr **

**Toc Tien - Saga Omdottir of Vanaheimr, Goddess of Song; Songstress of the Realms **

**GENTLEMEN****: **

**Jason Lewis - Prince Freyr Vanlandison of Vanaheimr, God of Peace; Duke Freyr Vanlandison of Vanaheimr **

**Mel Gibson - Imperial King Vanlandi of Vanaheimr | Vadir of Vanaheimr, God of Vengeance **

**Steven Yeun - Skirnir of Vanaheimr, Courier of the Gods **


	3. 2

2

One moment they were surrounded by green of their world. The next the princess and priestess were soaring within a tube of golden light, the astronomic colors of a rainbow, an enchantment of passage. Now with both feet stable and upright, they reside in a gold dome filled with the inner-working gears and mechanics channeling Yggdrasil's magic.

A hand bracing Nerthus' shoulder within this branch of time, steadying the gentle sway of her slim body, Inia levels her sight on a familiar one standing atop the observatory's elevated epicenter and control unit. She passes the dark Vanir a smile, one she is glad he shares. "Heimdall. I am glad to see you once again so soon."

A knowing smirk twitches the corner of his mouth, his sight soft as he welcomes her via bow of his chin. He unsheathes a massive longsword famous to his vigil godliness from the mystical dais and rests the point of the blade between his parted feet, leaving his wrists to rest casually on the decorated rump of the hilt. "As it is for me to see you, Priestess. I took no offense, for your words were indeed factual and correct." A stare akin to fuchsia sapphires glide coolly to the blonde princess scouring the metallic dome wearing an innocent visage of awe, excitement, and wonder.

"Your Highness, tis an honor for myself to grace you. I am Heimdall, watcher of worlds and god of vigilance." His chin tilts a respectful bow.

Snapping out of her self-entertainment with a visible jolt, her eyes are a bit wide upon hearing such a rumbly voice appointing her. She swiftly mimics the greeting nod and finally realizes she still clings to Inia, Nerthus uncoils herself from the priestess. The heiress glowers sheepishly at her reflection on the floor between rose gold accented boots.

Inia, loving and treasuring the childish wonderment and purity of Nerthus, nudges the princess' plated arm with her own, earning a funny look of confusion.

Heimdall, Norns bless him, continues as if nothing broke his salutation and pins the intense weight of his stoic perception on Inia. Only when he finishes speaking he glimpses again to Nerthus and explains that the Aesir princes and the Warriors Three shall provide them each a steed and accompany them to the palace in Asgard City. "I hope the Aesir festivities of _Jera_ lives up to your expectations. The Queen-Mother shall be beside herself to grace you and has made preparations to make your visitation as fulfilling as possible. If you quest my expertise for any reason, simply state my name and I shall cast my gaze upon you. I see all."

"Tis a pleasure gracing you, Heimdall. I look forward to your presence again."

If Inia knew not, she would think the heiress speaks shyly and reticently but no, that is Nerthus' naturally soft-spoken, mirthful persona.

"As I to you, Your Highness. Good day, royals of Vanaheimr."

True to his word, a small party of steeds in many shades but similar in muscularity line the fabled rainbow bridge in a precise train of succession. Abreast of the chargers is a semi-circle of dismounted Aesir, each of them donning auras of the regality, riches, strength and the immaculacies their culture aerates.

"I enjoy Heimdall." Nerthus' sweet voice whispers; arms draping her royal crest belt, she minimally dials to her superbly postured guardian and squeaks, "_Oh_. Inia, he says he sees all. Is it possible for him to also hear all?"

"Possibly." In guardian mode, her sight darts swiftly between each finely garbed warrior and perceiving no ill will from the group by her truth _sedir_, she inhales the crisp saltwater of their sea spilling over the edge of the realm's flat land, eyes following the liquid particles dissipating into the nothingness of space's void. "Perhaps you shall ask him next time you meet?"

"I would enjoy that. If I am not a bother, of course. Gazing upon realm upon realm seems rather tiring and the last thing I would want is to take away from his duties. Although, perhaps he would favor some company."

_So kind and considerate but so easily distracted and gullible; in the moons ahead, our strengths shall be our greatest weaknesses. One day, Nerthus' light shall make a fine ruler of Vanaheimr and reflect its rays upon her people. My, I treasure her saccharinity. Norns knows I am not as kind as I once was, priestess or not_.

Wanting to witness her kin's reaction to the realm of eternal as they close the distance between one royal house with the other, Inia bites her lip to stifle a snicker due to the stupefaction lining Nerthus' face enchanted by the mystic stone of the bridge itself as she taps her feet observing the flashes of colors stirring with each step. For the second time in twenty minutes, Inia discreetly nudges her, knowing full well she shall be repeating the action often for the princess' wandering mind during the two weeks of celebration to come. Inia halts abreast of Nerthus and bows her chin to the group in greeting. To Inia's pleasant surprise, Nerthus speaks their salutations, proud the young heiress speaks clearly despite her thick accent, the guardian finding herself humbled at the rare usage of her full titles being declared.

"Your graces, tis an honor for the House of Gaea to be invited thus included in the festivities once more. I am Nerthus Vanlandidottir, crowned princess of Vanaheimr. I am glad to welcome the return of my eldest niece, Princess Inia Freyrdottir, Priestess of Vana, the goddess of truth and fortune. She is my guardian during this visit."

A brawny blonde haired man with the richest topaz blue eyes sends a charming glint Nerthus' direction, shamelessly sparing no hesitation of admiration toward the priestess either, despite the glare he receives from Truth herself. His masculine, kingly voice boasts pompously over the sea's usual roar consuming the bridge; adorned head to toe in his celebratory armor garb alike his brethren, he steps forward to bow and kisses her knuckles. "Tis a great pleasure, my lady of Vanaheimr. I am Prince Thor, god of thunder."

Caught in the compulsion to cease his gawking of her precious kin with a piercing frown of no-nonsense or easily shoving the handsome blonde aside with a thrust of strength, she smothers the instinctual protectiveness lurking her in bones, reminding herself that Thor is a friend, flashing him plus the Warriors a polite smile whenever examining eyes circle back on her.

Diplomacy and politics are a wonderful, easy tool of justification and self-protection to fall back on in awkward moments of social interactions such as this. Tis why many perceive Inia to be despicable and emotionless for her priestess duties but again, she is an introvert and only a select few know of Inia's compassion, buried longing, and grief all forged by her humbling burden of her self-candor. Truly at the root of her person, she fears she is no better than Idunn who shadows herself and feasts upon the grief and anguish swallowing her heart in the quiet name of lust and vengeance. This realization is an emotional slap to the face and astounds herself. Suppose she is more akin to Idunn than she believes?

Blinking control over her inner battle, she whirls to a boisterous voice still clamoring his salutation. Her neck cants to each comrade he motions to, including Sif who eagerly returns the clap to her forearm curtesy of their kinship forged through Freyja's Valkyrior, but Inia lingers a moment longer on Loki, seizing a set of memorable eyes trained keenly on her. For a moment, she swears all the breath evicts her lungs because her heart is once more ramming into her ribcage, leaving her pupils blown wide and extremely too breathy for her taste. Mentally, she hopes no one notices nor acknowledges her blushing features harden, anticipating an emotional onslaught.

"My brother, Prince Loki, god of mischief, chaos and lies. I give you Lady Sif, our finest shield-maiden and resident Valkyrie. The Warriors Three, I present Fandral the Dashing, Volstagg the Valiant, and Hogun the Grim."

Of the trio, Hogun is the lone figure crossing an arm across his chest and bending at the waist. The blossom pink sight of a Vanir dash to his mother-realm's princess and priestess, enacting the Vanir's respectful bow of salutation. He only straightens when both parties imitate the gesture, as expected.

To Inia's great relief, Nerthus converses enough for the both of them once they all mount a steed and traverse along the colorful bridge. To her great exhaustion and vexation, she notices the younger prince has taken it upon himself to trot abreast of her, studying her deftly in the side of his eye rather obviously to Inia's sixth-sense. With the bulk of the group ahead listening to an overly zealous Fandral question Nerthus' "attachments" and Sif's eagerness of her war skills as Thor chimes a question every now and again whilst Hogun simply observes and listens, save for Volstagg tailing contently behind she and the raven haired prince, Inia dials swiftly and is satisfied to find one of his more intrusive glances prying for insight, ultimately catching his suaveness by surprise enough for his vivid eyes to widen for being caught gawking despite how discreetly. While not smiling altogether in the midst of duty for her small victory, her mouth frowns thinly at his own mask of indifference coloring his beautifully diamond shaped face.

In a forbidden corner of her mind, she questions if he was sculpted by the Norns themselves as a test of her vow. Surely no other creature across Yggdrasil has ever piqued her yearning and intellect all in a single look…

_Heed your thoughts, Inia. Ceases these foolish daydreams, you know nothing good shall come of it. You are the niece of the Imperial Queen, the Priestess of Vanaheimr, a Harbinger of the Norn Fates, Keeper of Heill. Act as you are._

She knows not why she is behaving so crossly with the owner of the peridot eyes haunting her, but such defensive maneuvers are familiar and comforting to her in a time of great confusion of the future and her own general discomfort.

_Yes, _she extinguishes the flames of self-doubt and apprehension_, tis much easier to shut out people than open your heart to another in wakes of fear. "Ridiculous" as Idunn says, but a necessary evil, I am afraid. _

"Is there something you wish to say, Loki?"

_Perhaps an apology?_ She muses, knowing full-well tis hardly in his nature to do such a thing because he is not one to reflect on faults nor admit it to himself, especially another. _Alike Idunn_.

"Not exactly. However, you seem verily invested in your thoughts. Care to speak your mind?"

_Sweet Valhalla_, she forgot how silken and profoundly satisfying the accent of his gallant voice is, even as a child. Now in manhood, tis utterly divinely regal and masculine. Addicting.

"Not exactly."

"Though may I say, I did not foresee you becoming a priestess."

_What on Vana does he mean? _

"What is that supposed to imply?"

"Believe me or not, I am not always cross and never do I state compliments simply for pleasantries. What I imply is: I imagined you to be something of an instrument of import, say a bow, accurate and precise alike Heill, but never did I believe you to be a saint. Nerthus seems more suited for sainthood, though you seem rather content in your temporal duty as a guardian."

Reading between the lines of a conversation is a fixture of seeking truth, a natural skill brought on by her godly niche she wields often in imperial court. What she gathers from Loki is rather simple: he believes she should be the one protected, not the protector of a mere crowned princess that is unlike a rare instrument of value such as herself, that she should be the prime guest of honor instead.

"You are chattier than I remember." She remarks blandly, staring forward.

"And you are far more scorned than I remember. Did my serpent jest bother you so? Truly, I thought you had foreseen it, that you would have brushed off the trick and perhaps sprawled me somewhere convenient to frighten another instead. Though, Thor did soil himself once I retained my natural shape and stabbed him delightfully. That being said, somewhere in my words you can assume my gratitude. Or not. It matters not to me."

_So much for an apology_, she shakes her head. _Oh, Gaea. What did I agree to? I am strolling beside a crafty, devastatingly handsome, shrewd god of mischief who is both my equal in emotion and wit but my opposite in ethics. I wonder if Heimdall shall grant me transport to Vana if I turn back….No, no, I cannot abandon guardianship. Although, Sif is more than capable to guardian over Nerthus, Freyja trained her and it would be a shame to underestimate her. _Mentally hearing how impossibly stupid it sounds in the barriers of her own skull, she curses and pleads, _Damnation! Norns, my burden and salvation, please lend me strength and wisdom to not be foolish_…

Reins lightly gripped in one hand as the other circles the saddle handle amongst her thighs, she wanly admits, "I did, but premonitions were all I saw in a difficult time. I was overwhelmed, vulnerable to anything then. A laugh could have frightened me."

Yes, a difficult time indeed when her Mother perished in place of her daughter at the hand of a great evil named Karnilla.

Memory must serve him because Inia is inwardly fascinated by the sudden change of his dry tongue holding notes of tact and consideration of the sullen turn of conversation. She even swivels her head at his sensitive broach of the subliminal subject of her deceased mother, sensing him acutely aware of her body bobbing on the saddle as the steed strides and the pensive look scrawling her.

He matches her pensiveness, glancing at her often as the click-clack of hooves fills the air in no sort of rhythm. "And now?"

"Attempt such a trick again and you shall be punched." A smirk tilt her lips upward.

He does not mimic her fully, but hints of amusement tints his sardonic manner. "Only a punch? Is that all? Truly? Sif threatens worse, you do not phase me."

"Fine. Then I shall resort to insuring your demise by rectifying your silver tongue of falsehoods. Bet she does not threaten that, hm?"

"My, you are vicious to threaten such a treatment of my tongue." Said tongue waggles suggestively.

_Damn him_, her mind grumbles.

"However, I am afraid tis not becoming to you, Inia."

Gracious gods, he says her name divinely.

"You do not know me." She retorts, hoping the strange tingle of warmth in the pit of her belly has not tainted her smoky voice nor it shines in her eyes.

"Oh, you would be surprised by how wrong you are." He says confidently, donning a devious smile similar to the one of his child-self wore often in the midst of her, attempting for hours and days at a time to catch the gal harbinger off guard and produce a scream.

Never had she given Loki the pleasure to hear her frightful wail and never does she plan to release such a vocalized emotion for the personification of mischief.

"Really, you talk too much. Now hush or I shall kick you off your steed."

He taunts, "Oh, I hardly believe so."

Slicing her eyes against his, she high kicks the ball of her boot to his jaw but is disappointed and incredibly irate to miss a perfect strike as he deftly swoops back, avoiding her swiftly.

_Damnation! _

On his heels and thundering her palomino's hooves on the mystic stone of the iridescent Bifrost, Inia commands her steed to bolt through the line of bemused warriors, giving chase to Loki's festive jade cape flagging vigorously behind him and his stallion as the hem of her violet tunic wags beneath her rosy metallic Vanir garb, a small line of skin revealing itself on her lower back just above her leather onyx trousers as she hunches forward on the steed, wordlessly signaling it to charge faster. "CEASE AND SURRENDER YOUR TONGUE, MISCHIEF!"

"EHEHEHE! NEVER!"

"Enough nonsense!" Ignoring the cheers of laughter and hoots of hilarity littering behind, Inia's eyes flash starry purple and as a result, his saddle miraculously unhinges, sliding off the animal's back and peels a grunt of surprise from the rider as he rolls quite gracefully onto his haunches resembling a pouty lad told by his mother to stop antagonizing his brother. Gleaming mirth, she gallops innocently to the scene of a very unhappy Loki glaring hatefully at the saddle below him as it had personally wronged him but obviously dumbfounded, the black stallion free and long gone.

Tis a sad sentiment when even one's steed does not even remain loyal to its rider, when _Ehwaz_'s practice of steed-rider relationship runs its course. Avindr has not and thus would not think to abandon his mistress in the throes of battle or skimming the clouds during flight. Although, soul-tie practices are rare, especially with a beast, and the _sedir_ of its elfish origin is nearly extinct.

Halting neatly by a small tug of the reins, she tilts her head quizzically, scanning the sulking prince for injury. "Oh dear. What happened?"

On his feet, he brushes his armors vainly, smoothing the leathers of his perfected garb, scrambling for an obvious sense of self-reassurance she is not sure if he is aware he displays. In a devilish growl, he fixes her a malicious profile, his mind visibly cooking up dozens of ploy for revenge. "You shan't get away with this!"

The inability to lie in her nature, she smoothly roams his peeved but unharmed stature then offers her hand to mount her saddle. "Loki, did you manage to bump your head? Come along, I shall take you to the healers. Lady Eir may know what to do with you." No matter how hard she fights the simmering amusement broiling the warmth in her pit, she audibly fails. Resting her inner battle, she laughs so wholeheartedly her shoulders tremble and her hand goes limp in the air. It takes her a full minute to calm her demeanor then discover the tears of joy streaking her cheeks, dripping from her jaw onto her trousers. Drying her face, she releases a final small giggle at Loki staring dumbly at her with his eyebrows elevated in what she can only assume is confusion, horror and astonishment. "Mm. That felt lovely." She sighs deeply, marinating the old, familiar feeling into her bones and exhales delightfully. Her hand stretches outward and this time, he does not question her offer but refuses settle for anything less than commanding the steed himself by clutching the reins for dear life in fear of her shoving him off again.

_And rightfully so. Freyja would be proud_.

Inia normally would not allow a man so close in proximity, especially behind her where she had no sight of him, but in this moment of blissful joy she hardly cares for anything. She feels remarkably lighter and in much a better mood than before. If the next two weeks of _Jera_ shall be remotely anything resembling this, then perhaps _Jera_ came at a good time after all.

"All right, I am impressed. Tell me, how did you do it? Tele-psionic enchantment?"

Overlooking the riveting sensation of his silken voice vibrating her body as his chest presses – she's very sure _intentionally_ – into her back and the intimate heat of his breath tickling the shell of her ear, she forces her eyes forward on the remaining stretch of the bridge. She can see the gates now and Norns, they are majestic in rays of sunshine, as if she were entering Valhalla itself.

_Mm. I remember them being taller, though it takes none of the shine away from its glory. Everything in this realm is golden and after centuries of retuning on and off, venturing when I am requested by AllFather Odin himself, I ache for the greenery of Vanaheimr by the third day. I wonder if Frigga has added more flora to her gardens. I would love to paint the scenery. _

"No."

"You cannot speak falsehoods, correct?"

"Correct. I was wondering when you would use this against me and let me say that tis highly unoriginal. Really, I am a tad disappointed, Loki, you are keener than this."

"You think me keen, do you?" He questions wolfishly.

"Yes."

Sweet Valhalla, how is she supposed to be burring inner wreckage of yearning if such a solid specimen of the opposite gender is pressing into her body? Tis not fair in no way, shape, or form.

"To answer your original question, I am the embodiment of fortune. I simply jinxed your saddle and the jostle of your stallion's movements snapped the buckle and here we are. Oh, did you want your saddle?"

"No, a stable-hand shall fetch it later." He sounds hesitant, distant and far away as if he ponders something troubling.

Above her better judgement, Inia curves her head as far as she can, witnessing the moment his pale neck tips downward so those gorgeous green swimming in bewilderment and amusement connect with her widening ones. A dust of heat tints her cheeks due to their closeness, cueing a striking grin to further slim his pink, narrow lips as the tips of their noses begging to brush. At the arrogant quirk of his eyebrow demanding justification of her gaze, the shy heat instantly disperses and instigates courage for her to speak. "Fortune is a form of blessing and not all blessings are good."

"Are you implying you cursed me, Priestess?"

"No, not curse. I jinxed you but worry not, it shall wear off within the day. Just, beware of your environment; accidents happen in the most unlikely of places." Noticing the befuddlement pinching a crease between his eyebrows she desperately wants to smooth out with her touch, him never breaking their string of eye contact, she tightens the saddle handle in frustration, recalling the Jotunn effect appearing in the premonition. She is extremely grateful to the Norns for giving her the sense to don her riding gloves for lack of skin-to-skin contact.

There was no telling what would happen if he touched her, even on whim, and if it were purposeful… She prays her steely diplomacy would control the situation because Norns knows if the expressive and passion of the harbinger were loose, for there is no punishment large enough for a celibate priestess.

"What is it? Loki?"

Just as he parts his lips, the rambunctious gallop of a herd marches their direction, catching up to the pair and cues cautiousness to conceal any emotion deep beneath his layers of black leather and jade exterior. Loki, though, never wavers from her intense stare and finally severs their gaze firstly when Thor wallops a clap of greeting on his shoulder, immediately instilling a sense of vexation upon his aura. Mask of indifference activated, he glares at his oafish brother blabbering on about one thing or another, highly aware of the nimble yet solidarity of the curvaceous woman in his arms by circumstance.

Inia situates appropriately on the saddle and brushes the pale mane of the steed, feeling the animal's muscle move, shift, contract, and expand amongst her thighs. The blush returns and this time, she is grateful her back is to the realm's most esteemed sorcerer. Steed beckoned forward by the expertise of Loki, the Vanir trails her line of sight on Nerthus' shinning grin as she, Thor, Sif, and Fandral banter harmoniously. Her plush mouth lifts as the princess suddenly zips forth gleefully, hooves pounding stone as the others charge after her in laughter. "This is a good day." Spotting a figure colored in burgundies and armor, she grins at Volstagg canting abreast herself and the prince. "Volstagg, it brings me joy to see you so hearty in contentment. How do you fair?"

He beams. "Wonderfully. My wife conducts the royal kitchens now and I assure you the cuisine shall be Vanir friendly for the nobility and I swear, tis utterly divine. Water-dwellers are a fine change, if I may say so myself." An expression so thoughtful creases his brow, pronouncing the lines of his elder age there, leading the axe wielder to stroke his bushy auburn beard. He smiles fondly. "The children deal well with their duties and certainly have much to learn in their education. My darling insists they shall be fine with time and devotion to their skills. She is right, of course." Dark blue eyes pay her a glimpse once they trance beyond the gates. He also seems to notice neither of the warriors nor a princess in sight and dashes a look of puzzlement at the green and black figure a hairsbreadth behind her.

She knows not what Loki mutely communicates but she intends to understand, slightly astonished at Volstagg's continuation of casual conversation. The guardian steels herself.

"How do you fair in sainthood, my lady?"

"As well as one can be, I appreciate you, Volstagg."

"And I you, Priestess."

Gaping forth, a familiar beckoning drenching this energy of this area beckons her aura.

"Pardon my bluntness. Where have they gone?"

"Asgard City is safe. Rest assured she is with Thor, Sif, and the remaining Warriors. They guard her with their lives –"

"Mm. Pardon me." Dismounting the steed in a single motion of fluidity including her leg flexing overhead the animal, her boots touch the firm surface of the flat realm and immediately follows with a knee of vulnerability, surrendering to the Norns as focus overtakes her aura. Peeling a glove, she flushes a palm to the ground and heralds her foresight forth, seeking the location of her princess by physical attachment within this realm's astral plane.

_~ Hooves clash against greenery. Flora envelopes her, a blissful sweetness tanging the air. Gold. … A golden fortress in the trees. A stairway as far in the sky as the eye can see, pearly white and reflecting colors in limitless opals not unlike the Bifrost. Shared laughter and satisfying moans. A man and a woman. Nerthus. Then wheat blonde hair appears curtaining over a grizzly face seemly chiseled by Freyja herself, naked muscles glistening in Asgard's suns with each movement intentional or not, his topaz eyes reflecting the unadulterated lust in her rosy soul windows… ~ _

A horse shrieks.

Her reverie breaks. Eyes of amethyst crane over a shoulder unseeingly, her chin raises minimally as she scans the starry daytime skies of Asgard.

_Strange. _

"A meadow." Purple haze vanishing with a blink, the blossom sight of normalcy returns the guardian from haze of her harbinger persona.

"Where?" Inquisitive and expectant of elaboration, Loki pats the palomino's neck meant to soothe the creature's skittish bobbing head, flopping mane, and shifty hooves.

Noticing Volstagg do similar actions to calm his blue roan stallion and earning a small amount of suspicion and curiosity tracing the elder warrior upon her, she kindles with Loki once more. "A meadow with a golden fortress in the trees. Where is it?"

If possible, the prince straightens his posture straight as an arrow, a sure sign of distrust and accusation. Coolly, he demands short of a snarl, "Of what does it concern you?"

"Nerthus shall be there."

"Why do you turn to the sky?"

Inia glints to one-third of the warrior three, answering him, "A stairway, forged of pearl and opal, reflecting all colors alike the Bifrost. What is it?"

"Odin's beard!" Eyes bulging, he shares an expression of awe and disbelief with the astonished prince. "You saw the Stairway of Valhalla?"

_Oh. Oh Norns, I did. I saw the Stairway of Valhalla. But why? Fated as the First Valkyrie and having forged the extinct Valkyrior many millennia ago, only Freyja has come and go from the blissfully dead to the living aside from Hela. What does this mean? Shall I venture to Valhalla? If so, may it be by death? Of course as a harbinger, I accept the possibility that I may perish at any given moment protecting my realm, Hel, I expect too, but I cannot fathom this sedir warning me that it shan't. No, not by death. Perhaps unconsciousness? Stranger things have happened throughout the realms, I know better than to question the Norns' providence. Either way, I must locate Nerthus. She has to remain a maiden, the Vanir laws of tradition require it if she is to gain my blessing when she weds. Unfortunately for Thor, he threatens these laws which is punishable by flogging at the best and imprisonment or execution at the worst. Gaea knows I refuse anyone to go relive my mistakes. Yes, lust is a mistake. _

"Suppose I did, though the reason escapes me. If you know of this meadow, can you take me there?"

"I know the path." Loki flexes the reins, agreeing to Inia's request but regards the auburn warrior. "Volstagg, give Frigga my deepest apologizes for our tardiness and reassure her the Priestess and I shall accompany Asgardia as soon as we can. I cannot speak for Thor, I know not what he does with whom and why."

"Of course. Be well and vigilant, the both of you."

Observing the dust kicking airborne by the axe wielder's charger, Inia looks quizzically at the flexes of gold speckling the dirt sparkling majestically her palm and fingers in every angle of daylight.

_The golden realm, indeed_.

Sparkly dirt brushed aside and glove on, she pauses before the steed, gazing intently into the wide blue orbs apologetically for frightening him and extends a flat hand. A tenderness that is truly Inia shines when a velvety snout presses against her warmth through leather, reconnecting the thread of trust between rider and runner. "What is he called?"

"Kayn."

"Kayn, I apologize for frightening you." She pets his bulbous snout. "Please, do forgive me. I would be very grateful if you refrain from throwing me off yourself."

Loki frowns upon her, suspicion evident in the crisp lines of his exquisite face. "You are a strange lady."

Smiling, she snorts, "I am well aware."

"Well, are you just going to stand there or are shall you mount me?" He almost, almost snickers at the horror lacing her features, stiffening her willowy frame, but extinguishes the lit match of mirth in his stomach knowing full well his jest shines freely in his gaze.

_What in the realm of Hel?! Is he – no, no. This is madness. He is mad!_

"You are mad to say such a thing!" She demands coolly, "Now hush and take me to this meadow before I claim your silver tongue and slice it off for myself."

"Darling, if you desire my tongue, you need only ask."

Knees weak with hot frustration, she straightens, pointedly ignoring his smugness, and all but growls at him with clenched fists at her sides. "_Loki_."

"Inia." He retorts unflinchingly, smirking downward at her.

"Cease this. Tis not becoming to you."

"_Ooh_." He smiles wolfishly, sounding much too excited and proud for her liking. "Have I touched a sensitivity beneath the scorned façade of your armor, Inia?"

"Do not presume to know me! We may have been close as children but we are no longer granted such pleasures, Your Grace. You see life as it truly is, as do I, but that is where our likeness ends and separates our worlds and duties. Now, for the love of Gaea, may you take me to this meadow?"

Nodding once deliberately slow to further unease her, he extends a hand to Inia mimicking her motion to him from before and easily assists her onto the saddle so she may situate affront him. Beyond his judgement and will, her scent of vanilla and clove pleases his nostrils, overloading his senses in a delightful longing that ignites a strangely familiar, but not unwelcome, warmth he has not felt since centuries before when he was naught but a princeling.

-O-

Inia stands at the edge of the field, the aroma of fluorescent vegetation pleasantly perfuming the air. The wind's whispers loiter the forest encompassing the clearing as breezes breathe and rustle the substantial canopy above. In the corner of her sight, she is aware of the dark prince abreast of her also gazing unto the otherworldly vibrancy of the breathtaking landscape set on the rural outskirts of Asgard City. She confesses, "Your realm is glorious, though I cannot choose a word to properly express how much I appreciate such splendor. You are acquainted with this place."

A look of pleasure and astonishment seeps into his eyes so upon catching one another's gaze, a smirk reactively upturns a corner of his mouth. "Verily. Odin would take Thor and I here as children to teach us the art of war. As I strayed from tradition, Frigga brought me here once a week as her apprentice. I see Nerthus nowhere in sight. Why bring us here?"

_Wonderful. I lost the princess and for all I know, she is fornicating with Thor as we sit here lollygagging in the forest alike an elf in heat. Norns, I am a horrible guardian. And then I must deal with Loki. _

An audible sigh exasperates her. "Tis difficult to explain, much more for another who is in no relation with the Norn Fates."

"Explain it as a soliloquy, as if you were pondering aloud. I am far more perceptive than I am fabled to be, Inia. Take time with your thoughts, we shall collect your charge."

Uneasy with the picture of him leaning coolly against a tree trunk awaiting her answer, shadowed by the brush of gold-stemmed leaves draping downward leaving her to see peridot shamelessly studying her, she senses no agents of chaos bustling the god of mischief, currently, so she relaxes and takes her resting stance of uncovered arms knitting below her armored bust.

_Lying is out of the question. The basics should appease him and whatever else he enquires. That is if he knows what to query at all since a select few throughout the realms may comprehend the potential of a harbinger in its fullest. Yes, this is good. Diplomacy is key, nothing personal_.

"Are you familiar with the tale of the Norn Sisters? How they came together to save their loved ones, perished at the hands of their fate, that the tears of the universe's mother who is Yggdrasil herself wept tears of life and love that rebirthed the three daughters of past, present, and future so they may crown the canopy of the realms' life tree?"

Loki nods positively.

"Good, then we shall begin there. … A select few throughout the Nine know of this tale, including myself and soon you. My heritage spans far and vast; my Mother once said that a child of fate arrives once every one-hundred millennia to share the visions of the three sisters in premonitions, to uphold peace within the universe in times of crisis, war, and great sorrow. I know not if I believe these things myself, simply because tis rather… _extreme_. But once again, anything is possible and it would be foolish of me to not at least indulge the tale." Unconsciously taking a deep breath and focusing on the opalescent bird floundering on a branch and rustling sheer feathers above her, she speaks as if to the blue-tailed rodent clutching an acorn accompanies the creature of flight. "Gaea claims Njord spoke of a harbinger in the bloodline, but that exchange was unfortunately his last so she knew not what he meant for many centuries. Then I was conceived." Sparing mischief a look to make sure she still captures his ears, Inia continues once he nods, noticing his mask of boredom melting away as interest sparks and flares.

That, his ever-growing interest, she is not sure what to make of. No one has ever taken to her so quickly rather they know so or not despite being a priestess and speaking publically to the commonwealth conducting rituals of blessings and nuptials. Judging by the peculiar show of openness accentuating his features whilst he jests and teases her has not escaped her notice. He favors her. He genuinely _favors_ her; she can sense the truth in his expressions rather he realizes this or not. Again, she knows not what to make of it. Nervousness? Fright? Anxiety? Excitement? No. Sorrow? Yes. Mourning? Definitely grief.

"Worlds away, Frigga had a dream of the Norns claiming my bones with their rune craft. Yes, I was born a harbinger and carry the blood of the Norn Sisters in my veins." Inia shakes her head, disbelievingly. "Odin and Gaea conversed and confirmed this, both witnessing a premonition I had in the womb upon my Mother's touch. I could not tell you what the premonition was, I cannot remember and they refuse to tell me."

"I see. Frigga has always seen you as a daughter."

"Yes, she has been a great strength for me though I fear am a constant burden to those amongst me."

Envy, anger, annoyance, and astonishment seethes akin one of Muspelheim's vegetative inferno geysers within his exclaim. "Why? You prevent wars in brewing realms, warn many of natural disasters, and protect those who cannot protect themselves! You are a savior! The hero-worship that follows you is a pagan of your achievements! You have shrines erected in your name by civilizations of those you have yet to meet, so much so tis practically a cult! You are accepted, so easily trusted and never deceived thus never endangered! What have _you_ to burden?"

Resisting the urge to scoff at the accusation of a perfection she loathes and to roll her eyes at the implication that she relishes the attention, she squares her shoulders. "I refuse to fuel that show of hostility. Worry not, I forgive your brash ignorance."

"Fine. Please enlighten me, _Harbinger_." In the shade of vegetation, he smolders her greatly in disgruntlement.

"I do not have a hand of control in foresight. Yes, I wield it but tis a living craft in its own right. My nights are plagued by randomized sequences of the future I have yet to distinguish. I see things but I never fully understand what importance they hold or when they shall occur. Any of them may happen within the hour or within the next century." Solemnly, she blinks her sight fro the prince to examine the intricate accents of rose gold glistening her over-the-knee-boots rather intensely. The toe of her boots draws lines in the clearing of dirt haphazardly, knowing she cannot glint at Loki without baring the true weight of her emotions on her face. Strangely, she cares not how her tone sounds however disgusted, angry, or saddened it is. "I am doomed to be forever awaiting things to parallel, trapped in an infinite puzzle of circumstance and misconceptions. No one can help me in this, tis my burden alone and is why I chose to become Vanaheimr's priestess, why sainthood is my salvation. The mere reason Frigga and Odin were able to see as I did is because of our native blood to the _sedir_ realm, our kinship of understanding the Norns, and Odin because he is soul-marked to her." She shrugs dejectedly, continuing her monologue and digging clumps of sparkly dirt with her heel carelessly. "Many see my choice of virtue as selfish and throughout my centuries, many have made effort and demand to have Freyr betroth me in the hope of more harbingers, but he countered by questioning the _sedir_'s potency as it travels the bloodlines. Freyja and our healers believe I had a premonition in the womb so enthralling it bestowed so much distress that I nearly slain my Mother and I, reasoning my cesarean birth. Freyr did not wish me the same distress of motherhood that was forced upon my Mother, believing nuptials and heirs are not of importance." For the first time since she started her explanation, a fond smile curves her lips. "I believe it would suit Idunn more beautifully anyway, she enjoys the prospect of promiscuity interweaving tradition and copes with attention better than I ever shall. Earlier when I touched the dirt and saw this meadow, I had to reach deep within myself and feel for the Norns. I had to request for aide and permission to wield it. You see, when I am in my most vulnerable form and open to infinite possibilities, the foresight awakes in my sleep and flashes countless moments of life and death all in a matter of seconds. Like a dream. When I am conscious and aware, tis rare the Norns bestow me a premonition and if they do, tis swift and powerful alike the waves of Aegis crashing upon pink sands. No matter when I beckon the harbinger, tis always a conversation of respect between mind and soul and if I need to source someone quickly, I find tis easier to associate with a physical attachment of the individual. For instance, Nerthus has a forte for geo-psionic Vanir _sedir_ and connecting my flesh to the dirt presented me a glimpse of her. I saw her here. … Gaea is convinced I am some sort of rebirth of the Norns Sisters themselves since I can see each facet of time unlike the Imperial Queen who may only see a premonition of an individual's past through tele-psionic enchantment and physical touch. Honestly, I believe they have become a bit overeager in the proposal of a Norn Child and have allowed their imaginations to overtake their sense of reality and truth. I certainly feel not half as glorious as they exaggerate me to be." She sighs, seeking silence after speaking so long about her ultimate downfall. "I know not if you understand this, but I cannot think of another way to explain my oddities."

"You speak as if you wish not to wield the Norns."

Inia replies not feeling disappointment nor gladness, "Even if I do not, I have not a choice. My fate was sealed before I was cut from my Mother's womb. In blackness surrounded orbs of light none shall hear my cry of despair in the void because I already have perished." Only when Loki stammers uncharacteristically over his words, unmistakably disturbed and shaken, does she dismiss her etches in the dirt to reach him at the tree's base.

"… You have…? I did not – _oh_. … That is horrible. I grieve for you."

Astonished overall by his reaction and witnessing the evident truth of his statement suspiciously brightening his eyes for reasons she knew not would affect him so deeply, Inia leans on the pale wood and is pleased she does not need to angle her neck uncomfortably to speak with a man for once due to their close range in height. Pale garnet threading to enchanting peridot, she speaks in a similar fashion how she soothed Kayn, "I would prefer if you do not. Loki, it is alright, I assure you. I accept it, but you must remember that the future changes constantly with every choice we make and every action we take, although the destination is always remains. … Time is both limited and infinite, a complex concept I have damned more than I can count, but I accept my purpose for existence and choose to do the upmost I can even if I must sacrifice parts of myself to do it."

"Tis still your life to live." He argues vehemently, the growl in his silken voice strengthens a crescendo of estranged emotions her explanation seemed to have unintentionally unleashed. "You have the right to do as you please, Inia. You are a goddess in your own right and come from the highest form of respect and nobility. Gods, you are a _princess_, an heiress of the Vanir crown rather you consider yourself as such or not."

"I do not wish to rule and for once I am relieved the Norns and I are in agreement. You are also not the first to state as such. Freyr has bargained with Gaea and Odin attempting to lift the _bestowment_ from me, but they have denied him a hundred-fold. I understand; the results of my Norn _sedir_ is needed and there is no telling what would occur across the universe if I were to be relieved of my duties or if I were to suddenly perish."

"And if you do perish, shall it be another one-hundred millennia before the next Norn Child is born?"

"I can only assume so."

It shall be many centuries of days contemplating miscellaneous moments of the future, diligently etching splashes of prophecies in color before she becomes lost to a sea of blackness. Knowing this, a strange sense of content clasps the foresight hand-in-hand, calming her presently while the circumstances granting her end is cloaked even from her. However, drifting in a vastness of silence wrapped by the cool clutches of sweet death, she has not a reason to fear anything. By that time in her lifespan, Inia expects she may welcome the tranquil end rather than challenge the prospect of frantically surging for a lifeline to keep her thriving. Survival shall be fruitless by that point.

His eyebrows furrow quizzically. "You do not know?"

"I can only see what has, is, and shall come during my lifetime. Anything beyond me is a leaf in the wind, neither here nor there."

After several beats of soft aerations of the breeze gusting to and fro the pair wafting mixes of flora to tickle her wiggling nose, cueing a barely-there smile from the prince, a quiet voice touches her ears. "My apologizes. My brashness and ignorance was out of place."

"Worry not, Loki. You are forgiven."

"I thank you."

"Of course." Stifling a giggle at the flabbergasted, lost look cresting him, Inia struts for Kayn secured to a low branch patiently awaiting attention or command of transportation. Caressing a stripe up and down the length of his snout and patting a wide circle on his neck, her blossom sight seeks Asgard's master of magic and seeing as he vanished, she sighs woefully. "Loki, if you are here I –"

Thunder bellows in the distance and Kayn rears, hooves kicking high and thrashing wildly as neighing screams chase scores of lightening crackling in the starry sunshine of day.

_Oh Gaea. That cannot be good._

"Shhhh. All is well, Kayn. Breathe, stallion, breathe. Ah, there you are. Good. Breathe, Kayn. Shh. Rest here while I retrieve Loki, alright? I shall return, just remember to breathe." Rubbing his neck for a final time, Inia plasters a hand to the holster on her thigh, cautious of the environment's many thickets and pockets of sanctuary for wild beasts or enemies of the throne to hide within. "Loki? … Loki, cease this nonsense! I must return to Nerthus and I highly doubt your brother shall be pleased if I left you to your devices stranded in the wilderness, not to mention Frigga's import of punctuality! Loki! This is no time to game with me!"

"What is this symbol?"

Circling around a massive tree and finding said prince crouching on the forest floor interpreting her illustration, Inia halts a couple feet before a contemplative Loki.

Apparently he has discovered the random etching her foot created and has taken interest in the design.

"Nothing of imp –" Her tongue bridals. She sighs exasperatedly.

"You cannot lie, especially to a liar. Though, I appreciate the effort of you warping your morals for me."

Eyes narrowing at his egotism, she breathes curtly, "Do not flatter yourself, I have not lied."

"Only because you physically cannot." He chimes cheekily, looking much too thrilled with this revelation.

"I have seen it a handful of times throughout my centuries, none the more. Come along, I do not believe Nerthus shall journey to this field today. When she does, I plan to be with her which shall vary the premonition and divert future travesty." Noticing he makes no quest to move and grazes dexterous fingers over the geometrics in the dirt, she squats beside him regarding it blankly. "What is it, Loki?"

"Tis familiar to me, but I know not how."

For the life of her, she cannot restrain herself from memorizing the endearing divot of confusion creasing the space between his eyebrows or dragging her eyes over the faint lines of thoughtfulness returning centuries of youth to his face and making him all the more beautiful when he is not self-consciousness enough to school his dark and sharp features upon a throne of perfectly unblemished ivory, reminding the Vanir of freshly fallen snow. Immediately, her gaze swoops to the nearest tree a couple lengths aside them as he looks up. In her gut, she is sure he has felt her stare scouring the complimentary proportions of a hawk nose and the slim shape of pink lips or the definition of his jaw in the corner of his eye and simply humors her natural curiosity, though she strongly rebukes the horrific realization.

_Why in Vana did I turn toward a tree of all things? There are flowerbeds all around, Inia. Gods, you are ridiculous. Let us pray he does not mention it, surely he cannot be that cruel. Surely. _

Feeling eyes strongly upon her, she wonders if this is what it feels to be admired, but again dismisses her imagination when she indeed discovers Loki discernment, looking at her strangely for whatever reason. "Well, when you discover why, I would appreciate it if you share your findings with me."

"Of course." He glints skyward, green orbs looking between the canopies veiling the daylight stars overhead. "The thunder is nothing to concern yourself with. I am sure Thor is attempting to win the affections of your princess and bring her to his bed by the mystics of Mjolnir."

Her mouth sterns discreetly, a small behavioral habit of distaste and stress she often wields publically usually occurring so quickly none but those familiar to her never witness the action opposed to her self-suffocation of screaming viciously in the privacy of her bedchambers, preferably into a pillow. On the rare chance one does witness this miniscule frown, they never think anything of it and attribute it to be her dull, introvert personality.

"You are upset."

Her face twists incredulous, hints of horror and amazement swirling her eyes. She stiffens defensively once on her feet and faces the royal who also rises. "Oh? And how do you know this, trickster? Do not lie to me or I shall compel the truth from you."

"What does that entail?" He ponders smoothly, perking with devious interest.

"Loki." She warns, pursing her lips.

"You are an honest creature, for you this means every thought that crosses your glorious face is genuine because you know not how to control your emotions despite the stern helm of a priestess. I am the best liar within the Nine, I can smell the aura of deceit in a gathering of thousands and I sense no falsehoods in you whatsoever. If that is not convincing enough, I happened to notice how your fingers tremble in apprehension and anxiety. When you are angry, frustrated and annoyed, your mouth purses. If something is of interest to you, a single eyebrow raises, typically the right one." He raises his own brow to demonstrate in a way she is sure is meant to be smug and prideful but begrudgingly, looks quite comical to her. "Also, your arms cross when you ponder with great strain, tis also your resting stance."

Any other time, she would giggle at his comedic mimicry and body language skills but her body goes through said motions of frustration, utter horror sprinkled with guilt and paranoia, her dose of usual sadness, ultimate acceptance, and lastly curiosity."Am I that transparent?"

_Gods he is observant_.

"Crystal. Though, I would worry not of others seeing you as so, for they have not my perception. Now, you are upset. Tell me why."

For a moment, it sounds as if he is trying to reassure her until vanity stokes the fire of his egotism and smolders her revelation to ash, far beyond the possibility of his glassy observation concerning herself.

"I fear her maidenhood may become lost to her before I am able to preside over her nuptial. A blessing of fortune upon a royal by the hand of a priestess such as myself is Vanir tradition. Dismissing these bestowments have reflected consequences before."

_Severe consequences. Freyr can attest to this; tis another reason why he cares not if Idunn or I wed nor produce heirs, _she sighs.

"I see." Within a few strides of his long legs, Loki leads them to Kayn's side where said steed nuzzles and knicks at her neck, making her giggle and playfully push the charger's head aside and repeat the process for several moments. The prince observes her patting the animal warmly, a faint smile gracing her plush mouth as his cool fingertips finally pay his runner affection by petting a velvety snout. His voice octaves much softer than he typically cares for, still catering spite indirectly aimed toward the blonde. "Is every lady in the green realm subjugated in maidenhood for the entirety of their lives or is this fruitless privilege segregated only to your dear aunt and yourself?"

"We Vanir are stricter in matrimony. This applies to all, though not all of us agree with tradition." Inia hopes he can feel the hole her stare burns into his skull, praying it makes him uneasy so he shall cease this path of questioning leading to the familiar and unwelcome subject of her counterpart.

"Freyr cares not for these traditions, does he?"

"Whether he does or not is no matter to concern yourself with, Loki. Please, enough enquires now. We are both needed at the Palace." Just as she reaches for the reins, her mouth morphs frustration and her eyes burn at the pale hand swiping them deftly out of her reach. If she was not irritated before, she is when he mounts and stretches a hand, leaving Inia to his polite, if not merciful mood, and ultimate control of Kayn who bobbles his head upon finishing a filling graze. She glares. "You are not as charming as you believe you are."

"No? Well, only time shall tell." That smug look crests his handsome face, poking a charismatic dimple aside his mouth. "Come, _Jera_ awaits us."

Saddled between Kayn and Loki's front, left to grip the horn-handle to unintentionally brushing into the comforting and familiar serenity a Jotunn's coolness brings from one to another, Inia dials a keen, artist-eye here and there, to and fro the breathtaking beauty of the meadow and forests dashing hooves trample. A slow-burning and ever-consuming glow of a great sorrow dusts the harbinger within, flickering a deep-seeded sensation of a hollowness she has known her entire life, alighting a fresh wick of fear only a seer such as herself feels in her marrow. Thick as blood, true as teardrops, swift as fate, her gaze rounds a broad shoulder that is not her own, realizing that everything comes to an end.

-O-

Appearing in a dining hall bustling with warm energy, high spirits and sloshing ale upon the reunion's merriment, Inia is mightily embraced by the golden prince himself. Being fully embraced so abruptly yet expectantly steals the breath from her lung and hushes the voice in her throat, not to mention a weightlessness. "Wonderful to – see you too, Thor."

"Unless you mean to suffocate the Priestess, I suggest you release her, Brother."

Able to suck in a deep breath once more and smoothing the wrinkles in her fabrics made by the blonde's strength, she finds Thor grinning sheepishly, reminding her of his princeling-self.

Strangely, it humbles his usual woman-pinning persona sopping in arrogance. As if struck by lightning with clarity, she sees his strangely shy behavior rather endearing yet suspicious. She distantly wonders if this is how he woes high-born ladies into his bed.

_Something is happening. Something...anomalous_.

"My apologizes. I forgot my strength in my excitement upon seeing your return."

"I expect nothing less than such a welcome." She simulate his smile anemically, scanning the warriors three and Sif conversing amongst a spread of refreshments her legs carry her toward. Kindly, Inia nods to each warrior and the shield-maiden before pouring herself half a goblet of wine and sipping. In the corner of her sight, she notices Loki skirt around the crowned table meant for Asgard's royals and her fiercest warriors and dignitaries, comparable to her own mother-realm; on their own accord, her eyes fixate on the green clad prince once he rests far down the table seeming relatively excluded yet not far enough for discussion to elude him either, despite the mask of neutrality and scrutinizing eyes darkening his person. The heat of another body gathers her attention, unsurprised to see Thor as said individual. Conscious of their closeness and her instant discomfort, she solidifies several inches between them, much to Thor's befuddled frown and the smirk she knows itches his brother's amused mouth. Swallowing fermented juice and skimming a light eye over the floral decorations lining the walls and surfaces resembling Alfheimr's day-to-day design of greenery and wildlife, she tilts her head quizzically at Thor who has not veered his gaze from her once.

This is concerning. She understands that they have not spent time in one another's company in many centuries but truly, she is not all that different nor much to admire. While she does not hate her Vanir form, tis her Jotunn skin and eyes clashing so vividly against snowy hair that takes her breath away in the sight of a mirror. Perhaps because she sees her Mother within her, smiling back at her more than herself.

"Where is Nerthus?"

"Rest assured, she has been escorted to her chambers in the care of my Mother. Volstagg tells me you sought her wellbeing when she was no longer in your company. I want you to know that it would be my pleasure to defend your princess in the face of danger and crush the skull of any who dare wish her harm, as I would the same for you, Inia. You both are safe in our company, I give you my word as an Odinson."

"Mm. I thank you for your words of reassurance, but excuse my honesty, Thor. While off the mother-realm she is my responsibility alone unless I request assistance, the prosperity of _Jera_ is prevalent to the success of my duties to Vanaheimr and Asgard. Do you understand this?"

"I believe so, yes."

"Good." She goes to take another sip but pauses, commanding the prince with no more than a shift of sternness in her bright eyes. "If you truly understand, then you shall keep your hammer in your trousers and continue to keep your hands from her during the remainder of our visit unless you intend a betrothal. Are we in agreement?"

Clearing his throat sheepishly, he replies uncomfortably, "I um, well. Y-yes. We are in agreement. I thank you for warning me."

"Wonderful." Cheerily, Inia tosses back the remainder of her goblet in a hearty sip, wipes the reminiscence off her chin, passes absently it to a wide-eyed Thor and makes her leave with a farewell nod to the room before crossing the threshold into one of the countless gold and ivory stone corridors. It takes her naught but a handful of minutes to recall and locate her previous chambers in the guest wing adjacent to the royal family's private wing, though she pauses in the intersecting corridor wearing a nostalgic smile, envisioning her younger-self accompanying Sif to the sparring pitch or running aside a pair of chortling, troublemaking princes whose plan of "get help" had succeeded on a lesser than patient guard one too many times. Still giggling about it, Inia sighs a final laugh and strolls the remaining steps to her destination, but not without stopping at the exposed corridors of the palace's third level. Hands smoothing over the stonework cultivating the gold landscape of Asgard's first family, she glints left, spotting the Bifrost glimmering many colors, then ahead at the lush Plain of Ida and the flat realm's distant lilac mountains enveloping the amethyst Sea of Maramora.

There are myths circling that within this Plain dwells a passage to Jotunheimr. Strangely enough, Inia knows not where it lay since she is accepted into the icy realm by Laufey and his kingdom and has no need to sneak her way about, especially with the knowledge of her Mother's forthcomings. Rumors illustrate of a covert passage converging between the two realms claiming the existence of a sacred Cavern of Time. No one has discovered its location in two millennium. Vacantly, she wondered if Odin knows of it and if he does, why has he not used it if is so fabled? Unless he has no use of it due to a harbinger's existence. … Suppose if he had, no one would be none the wiser since many events and circumstances cease to exist, thus previous consciousness and knowledges if he happened upon it in the first place…

All this pondering concerning parallels of time and lost realities makes her third-eye hurt. Her touch travels the banister's length until her hand drops, having run out of surface area as her feet pitter and patter the last stretches of her journey. Nodding at the armored pair stationing the double doorway, Inia bids the crimson hawks a polite greeting and is glad she does not have to spare her breath to explain the nature of entering the Vanir Princess' chambers. "Nerthus? Frigga?"

"In the wardrobe!"

Transpiring in natural tones of land Nerthus favors such as sky blues, flora greens, sunset oranges, bodily reds, clay browns, stone grays and ivory clouds, Inia glides inside the expansive wardrobe room, approving the fabrics contriving the balls gowns, daily frocks, trouser and tunic sets each with a quick once-over of admiration, grateful for Frigga's consideration of practicality in a field of modesty.

"There you are!" Nerthus grins in at Inia through their reflections in a magnificent six-sided mirror. "I assumed being my guardian meant you were to remain at my side, Inia." She tsks. "And to hear word Loki had stolen you away from me, no less. Tis…interesting. What says you, Your Grace?"

Inia's swivels to a woman elaborately donning yellows and blues in the form of a flowing frock, her strawberry blonde hair in a stunning braided bun held together by starry gold pins, a lithe body sparsely jeweled with the exception of rutilated quartz studs symbolizing the gain of strength through love and her arms adorned with hematite stone bracers providing protection, emotional grounding and the warding of negative auras.

Now she understands how Frigga has been able to survive ruling another realm dealing with an unyielding, almighty god of a husband and mothering two hel-raisers defining thunder and mischief. She understands more than the Asgardian Queen knows, being an adamant believer in the properties of stone enchantments as wielder during her adolescence.

"Hello, Frigga."

"Hello, Inia." The prince's mother circles the Jotunn-Vanir woman maternally, petting an icy blonde braid as thick as her arm and pulling it forward to femininely drape an armored shoulder as she retreats. "Exactly what was it that my son said to ensnare so much of your time? I must admit, I am curious myself."

"Nothing distasteful, if that is your worry."

"Dear, if he uttered distaste toward you, you certainly would not have spent hours alone with him Norns knows where."

An uncomfortably heat rushes her neck. Her eyes widen as she closely examines the blemishes and scuffs that have severely diminished the shine from her boots.

Absently, she wonders if sparkling dirt trailed behind her on marble flooring.

Her blush deepens.

_Gods, does that truly sound as immoral as it is? I am not Idunn and should not be aspiring to be so. I am a priestess and this is – _

"Inia. Has he offended you?" Nerthus demands. Quickly, she flails a hand at the seamstress measuring her bust who accidently pinches her skin, causing a small squeak of surprise to escape her. At the sound of their girlish laughter, she sticks her pink tongue out their reflections causing more jesting titters. Once again, she gestures the seamstress to continue and eyes another handmaid polishing her favorite pair of heeled slippers, the beginnings of a studious frown conveying her face.

"No, Loki has not offended me. Why would you ask such a thing?"

Nerthus' fingers pause winding around a lock of elbow length hair, which drapes her robed body in rivers of caramel waves, to stare disbelievingly at her older niece. Her tone is not a matter of question, but a statement altogether with no room for argument. "Because he offends others for his amusement, jesting or not. Tis distrustful. That is why I enquire such a thing. Forget not who lives beneath this domain, within these walls, Inia."

"Forget? How could I when Her Highness herself flanks you, young princess?" Inia glances to the content queen, linking their rosy gazes.

Frigga's sight seeks Nerthus' who is downcast in shame with a lip gnawing guiltily between pearly teeth.

"Your Grace, I apologize and beg you forgive my prejudice. Tis just, Inia you seem…I know not a word for it." She glances at Inia. "You are suddenly acting strange is all. Frankly, I am slightly frightened of you."

Inia barks a laugh. "Spare me the theatrics. We both know your _sedir_ could level an entire realm if you were in such a mood."

"Yes. Poor Vana has been subjected to my anger and frustrations for far too long." Her usual pretty smile brighten her face, intensifying the warmth of her eyes as she hops excitedly in place, hair swishing about. "We must find a new place of practice. Perhaps the next time you and Idunn visit Midgard I could accompany you? I would enjoy experiencing what everyone else has but I. Could you convince Mother Gaea to let me go?"

"So many questions, Nerthus." Frigga muses. "You are a creature of curiosity. This is good, all need those willing to form solution in times of catastrophe."

_What?! _

Quickly, Inia's field of vision levels on Frigga, a sickening feeling of foreboding recognition carving deeply into her bones and harshly inserting its claws.

_She knows. She has seen it. How has she not to have uttered such a subtlety? Frigga is attune to the Threads of Fate, as is Odin, so yes, of course she is aware. How much of the end has she seen? _

Pulling herself from the weight of an internal panic and dismay, Inia forces her facilities on the current facet of time, day and conversation with a reassuring deep breath, Inia absorbs and savors the sweet simplicity of being a niece and a daughter in this moment; a family. Nothing more and nonetheless.

"I agree. It has been a downfall of mine from time to time but I cannot help myself. I must know what I dare to know or I shall become mad."

"She means what she says. I have seen her madness." Inia alters her voice, sounding quite mystic and incredibly ominous. "_Weeds in her disheveled hair. Dirt blemishing her skin. Mouth stained by berries. Frock torn at the shoulder and hem, grass-stained. Feet bare, nails caked with grim of the forests..._ Yes, that was certainly a sight to behold."

"Norns, what on Vana happened?"

Answering the queen, Nerthus shrugs plainly. "A premonition came true."

"Oh. I see. I trust everyone is well?" Frigga asks the Vanir women after a moment of silent worry and inner speculation, eyes darting to and fro them.

"Twas a century ago. Things are better now."

"Truly. All is well, Frigga."

"Gods." Odin's wife sighs relief. A hand drops its place over her heart to clasp with the other at her waist, resting in her stance of elegant diplomatic neutrality. "You frightened me for a moment. Knowing you cannot lie is reassuring."

"Is it not?" Nerthus grins, unconsciously toying with her locks. "I enjoy that she could never resist my smile and as a gal, I made sure she told me everything and anything I desired to hear. Is that right, Inia?"

"Ridiculously so."

"Well, I find it admirable." Frigga gives Inia a warm, encouraging smile then tracks forward until she is abreast Nerthus and waxing a critical eye over the bodice of a ball gown the seamstress alters by hand at a sewing desk. After a second or two of a low exchange with said seamstress and an approving nod, she twirls to face both women wearing hospitality. "_Jera_ shall begin at nightfall with a great feast. I suggest you both rest for a while, bathe, and begin primping. I plan to do the same."

"We shall. Thank you, Frigga, and again, I apologize for my words concerning Loki."

"Those are your feelings, do not apologize for them, dear. Though, if you feel need to right things, I suggest speaking to him for yourself. You may be surprised, you may not. Now, I am going to the dining hall for refreshments. I am quite parched. I shall see you both soon. Be well."

"Be well." They utter in unison, watching the graceful queen vanish outside the room. The foyer doorway shut with an audible click of metal on metal, a chiffon train of marigold streaming after Odin's bride.

"So, she is the one who reminds you of Gerd?"

"Yes."

"If tis any consolation, I would have been greatly honored to have met and known Gerd if I had the chance knowing she is alike Frigga."

"I thank you, Nerthus."

"Thank me not, my feelings are true. … Have they met? Frigga and Gerd?"

_They were alike sisters. Very much alike you and myself. _

"Yes." She softly replies.

"You should tell her what she means to you. I believe she would enjoy that." The princess speaks innocently, purely thinking of the happiness of another.

Inia smiles sadly, fortunate her young aunt is upon a dais too preoccupied being measured and probed at to notice her crestfallen heart. "Perhaps I shall."

She continues chirpily, "I enjoy her."

"All do. Rest, Nerthus. I shall be in the next suite, simply open the door if you need me."

"Splendid!"

**AUTHOR'S NOTE****: Yo guys! I'm so pumped 2 post again! I have major plans 4 Loki/Inia during the paaaaarrrrty! So as always, ****Face Claims**** will be posted below. CC during R&R is super appreciated, guys! Have a good day :D**

**~_ Norn Vision/Foresight_ _as Harbinger_~**

**LADIES****:**

**Jamie Alexander - Lady Sif of Vanaheimr, Goddess of War; Valkyrie Sif of Asgard **

**Rene Russo - Queen Frigga, AllMother of the Nine Realms and Vanir Fertility Goddess of Childbirth**

**Rooney Mara - Eir, Asgardian Goddess of Medicine**

**GENTLEMEN****:**

**Ben Dahlhaus - Fandral Roblinson of Asgard, the Dashing **

**Chris Hemsworth - Prince Thor Odinson of Asgard, God of Thunder**

**Idris Elba - Heimdall, Asgardian God of Vigilance; Vanir Watcher of Worlds, Gatekeeper**

**Tadanobu Asano - Hogun of Vanaheimr, the Grim**

**Tom Hiddleston - Prince Loki Odinson of Asgard, God of Mischief, Chaos and Lies**


	4. 3

3

An hour of sifting through a freshly assembled wardrobe consisting explicitly of purples trimmed in rose golds among variations of black and white modestly accentuating her shape, she reacquaints herself in the space she shared with Idunn all those years ago does Inia realize she missed an opportunity to have word with Frigga. While she could seek the AllMother and potentially disturb her rest, she is swift to fall prone to the guilt of doing so. Instead, she sees no issue wandering to the dining hall or visiting the kitchens to see if the queen has chosen a different path besides slumber.

While Inia is wary to leave Nerthus alone on foreign soil, she also must uphold her purpose of existence, that of a harbinger.

Desion made with vigor, she scrawls a note for her kin and tucks it beneath a slim chalice on the nightstand beside the four-post canopy bed and pointedly secures the veranda then commands the guardians posted outside their doors to remain vigilant, assuring her absence shan't be long. It takes her but a moment to retrace her steps and usurp disappointment in her wake upon a reassembled dining hall far more festive than she remembers centuries before.

Servants, barmaids, and designers alike partake in adjusting rows of long tables, lounge furnishings, set flatware as others polish surfaces to sparkle for the banquets ahead.

None seem to spot her so she sighs dejectedly and approaches a guard swathed in gold, maroon and black silhouetted beside an entryway, positive he is positioned there regularly and interchanges his post with a trio of the other crimson hawkmen of his royal battalion as per-usual.

She can only assume, seeing as that is logical and the way Vana Palace does so.

"Pardon me, did you happen to witness the Queen's recent visit to the hall?"

"I did."

"May you tell me which direction she went? I must have word with her."

"I know not of her activities. I apologize, for I am not her personal guardian, Priestess."

Her mouth frowns at his tone, a sinister glean clouding the astral plane of this realm she may recognize, greatly feeling she does, though the title of this darkness evades her mind's eye. "Are you well? Has something I said offend you?"

"No. Forgive me, Priestess."

_This is strange_.

"I see. Pardon me."

_Well, that was counter-productive. The guardians outside Nerthus' and I's chambers are not curt and I sense no distrust from them. What has angered him toward me? Perhaps his corral is not with me but trouble in his personal abode concerning a lover, a bride or a child? I know not but tis rather brash and unkind to spat his tongue at me as if I had a hand in his misgivings. No matter, I shall enquire of his name at a later time and offer him a fortune blessing if it aids those of his abode_.

Unable to satisfy the itch for solution on a sensitive manner for the secondary party within her prophecy, she forgoes seeking Frigga and continues on to her next best option.

The library.

Inia is quite proud she did not step in circles journeying to the ancient archives of Asgardia Palace. The moment she enters, an elder librarian with braided fair hair and pale eyes twinkle at the sight of her and sets aside a weathered tome, unknowingly awakening a dormant bundle of nerves within the Vanir as the lady encroaches closer beaming recognition and excitement.

_Gracious Norns, give me patience and please help me be kind. I worry for this lady's crazed gaze as it settles upon me._

"Priestess!" She bows her neck eagerly and wrings bony hands behind her back enthusiastically, "Tis a great honor to be in your presence. How may I be of service?"

Ignoring the spectacle of the few patrons leering every inch of her façade and measuring it to whatever fabrication they may have heard of Yggdrasil's fabled harbinger or as the Vanir priestess, she ends her scan of the endless ocean of volumes onto the petite lady. "I seek knowledge of masquerade enchantments. Preferably tele-psionic or illusionary. The realm of origin and craft matters not."

"Ah. Seeing truths beyond farces in the Palace already, are we?"

Inia replies quietly, bouncing bright eyes over the floor-to-ceiling leather bound records. "Perhaps. Tis why I am eager to pursue my studies. Please, could you guide me to the path I seek?"

"Oh, yes! Of course! Follow me, please." The stage whisper puffs her heavy bosom; her wide smile exposes dimples below sharp cheekbones, restoring centuries of youth even if for a moment.

Inia smirks, flowing easily behind the lady's prim steps and has to shorten her long gait on several occasions to prevent crashing into the delicate blonde as they weave in and out of shelves, questing deeper inside eons of the universe's unfathomable knowledge. Equipped with an eidetic mind, her blossom sight commits the numerical plaques dotting rows of monumental shelves tightly organized by realm and alphabetical purpose. One hand smooths over the tome passed to her, feeling and memorizing the strange texture of pelt used to bind parchment ages ago when this treasure was first published. Only once the librarian finishes clarifying hours of operation and policies does the Freyrdottir return the hefty tome and take a step backward to scope the soaring shelf.

_Oh my Gaea. I have never seen so many tomes in my five centuries of life. Not even in Midgard, and their poets are icons of legend. Tis a thing of wonder, thus beauty_.

"This is the closest tome in our location. If you intend to stay, I can provide you a bureau and pluck whatever I can on the subject should you wish, Priestess."

"That sounds lovely, but today shan't do. Perhaps next time. I simply wanted to ease my mind and see with my own eyes that you indeed have what I seek so I may come another day. Soon."

"Of course. I completely understand. Please, come again whenever the desire strikes." The elder lady lays a hand upon her heart and tips her chin respectfully. She speaks softly, "Pardon my etiquette, my lady. I am Vor, first librarian and archivist. Should you need any assistance during your visits, please seek me. It would be my greatest honor, Priestess."

"Mm. You are gracious, Lady Vor. I shall be sure to hold you to your word, you have been warned."

"Oh. I-I thank you. Is there anything else I may assist you with?" Posture wound tightly and shoulders squared, Vor inhales a galvanized breath and quickly returns the tome to its place of origin, recovering it from the priestess' grasp once again. Any initial confusion lacing her ripened features vanish when she recognizes the small, barely-there smirk tugging the gal's mouth that immediately calls another academic royal to mind. The first librarian smile gentles, shining nearly maternally on its own accord.

"No. I know not when I shall return, hopefully soon. Good day, Lady Vor." Brushing aside the funny look the lady fixes her, Idunn's sister dismisses the library scoping the plaques noting various realms and devoting them to heart. Once again, Inia finds herself traversing the halls.

She wonders, _if the walls of the Palace could speak, what they would utter? _

"Priestess."

She faces the source of the silken voice.

_Loki_.

Why is she not surprised?

"My, what are the chances of us stumbling upon one another in a large palace in such a short span of time? Are you following me, Prince?"

"Feeling direct, I see."

Spying the sly glean of mischief burning just below the surface of his cool and collective visage, she stretches several paces between them very cautiously as if any sudden movement may startle and cause his inner predator to strike its prey.

Under any circumstances, she cannot allow him to touch her. She knows not if he is aware of his parentage and until she knows of an enchantment to deflect, not hide, but _deflect_ the cerulean flesh caused by one Jotunn connecting with another, Inia shall do all she must to prevent frightening him firstly. Asgardians have never been on good terms with Jotnar despite Odin's Treaty of Peace with Laufey unlike their sister race of Vanir but still, the premonition could be a prelude of Loki losing his reputation of royal title if he is exposed. That is not a choice she dare steal from him nor a risk of his life's purpose she shall take. Tis not her place to reveal it to him nor to shield him from it either, but in the same breathe, she cannot be held liable for acting on behalf of the Norns. Very few alike Freyr, Frigga, and Nerthus comprehend the unique nature of her Norn-Vanir crafts as closely as possible despite their lack of an intimate tie to the three Fates of Yggdrasil, and Inia appreciates their compassion. This begs the question: if she were to alight Loki's truth, would Odin understand her motives? Fair or tragic, now or later, truth always prevails. For now, she shall speak only when prompted so if he ponders, his truth is fair game. Odin cannot fault her even in his greatest anger, for he granted her diplomatic immunity across the realms long ago due to her Norn-given purpose which cannot so easily be stripped as twas granted.

"You of all know I am a blunt creature. Now, please answer the question."

"I have not followed you, though your accusation of me raises my suspicion of your behavior." He departs from the shadows rather ghostly and smiles mercilessly at her expression flirting between consideration and hesitation. "I happened to see you in the library and was prepared to offer my assistance, then I saw Vor has done so. Did you find what you seek?"

"Perhaps. What does my curiosity matter to you?"

"Oh, you have no idea." A devastatingly handsome grin curves his mouth.

"Mm. Rather you continue to seek me for whatever reason strange or not, I am sure we may 'coincidentally' stumble upon another regardless."

"Tis meant to be, yes? You saw this?"

"I know not because I have not."

_But yes, I have dreamt of you_.

Her eyebrow crooks interestedly. "You are disappointed. What is amiss, Loki?"

"I have endured many disappointments." He scoffs.

She gives into the torrent of sadness swimming in her belly and threads a rosy gaze with his striking green much too easily, as quickly and simply as breathing.

Suddenly, the words tumbling her lips seem too intimate of an exchange considering the waves of compassion and sadness dispersing her initial instincts of doubt. In truth, she urges to chastely embrace him and stand vigil as his guardian to protect him against any who dare oppose him a right to happiness and contentment, though she squashes the feverish itch to physically reach out to comfort him by closely examining her boots. "I grieve for you."

"I do not _need_ your pity nor your saintly whims!" Glad to see her attention center on him once more due to his seething and the supposed transparency of his upmost annoyance due to her lack of cowardice in the face of his stoic glean, Loki stalks closer and stiffens to a stop when she presses herself into the wall suddenly, violently really. He frowns.

Her hands flatten on the surface behind her. Despite her tactics of evasion, a stern tone serves to protect herself. "Twas not pity. Gods you are brash and brazen."

"Damn right I am. You are in _my_ realm, _my_ palace, _my_ abode, Inia." He scowls.

"You dare threaten me?" She counters.

_What happened within a few shorts hours to make him so hostile? I know I have not a hand in this, then what? _

"Take it however you wish. If you shall pardon me, I am to be anywhere else but here."

The moment he is well out of earshot, she scoffs and fiddles her lip angrily between her teeth. "Well, that was unnecessarily rude."

Loki doubles back and apparently ignores the blatant discomfort lacing her features, relishing the surprise swirling her soul windows. "Pardon? Have something to say, Priestess?"

He is much too close. She can feel his cool breath hinting naturally sweet of mint and cedar. Akin to a Jotunn in the depths of winter. Alike her Mother.

The scent of a memory she thought lost to her forever wets her eyes.

She cannot bear to look at him so she does not and tries to shuffle aside but his hovering form falls in step with hers, stirring the cauldron of apprehension into involuntary bubble of panic.

"Are you…_weeping_?"

Blinking, a tear drips but frosts mid-fall and freezes upon the flesh of her cheekbone, causing a wave of nausea induced alarm to overtake her. Inia immediately spots Loki's puzzlement and cowers into the wall as his hand unthinkably, instinctively gravitates to her face. "NO!"

Loki jerks back, clearly startled by her scream. Eyes wide and face stricken, he evaluates her but only identifies an all too familiar fear and terror etching Inia. A thicket of ice cold, razor-bladed guilt and shame drops heavier than any stone in his stomach, hurling Mjolnir to the forefront of his thoughts and that of her golden keeper salting the infected wounds of his past transgressions.

"Do n-not touch me...please."

"I did not… Are you well? Do you need to be taken to the healing ward? Should I fetch Nerthus? Tell me what you _need_. Is this a premonition? Inia, _please_. _Tell me_ what is wrong!" Sinking to the floor aside her knees held tightly to her chest, he lowers to his knees before her shrinking form not knowing what to do with his hands in the strange predicament and reaches for her anyway to –

She scampers, managing to swoop acrobatically below his long arm in a flash, standing once again. Glancing madly between her trembling hands, his outstretched artesian hands long and narrow eerily similar to those of icy blood, his stunned and worrisome face, she spins on her heels and dashes down the corridor, betting he hears her low sobs and sees the quake of her shoulders.

She cares not.

-O-

Inia glimpses in the wall of mirrors within her water closet, abruptly feeling her handmaiden's efforts pause in their vigor to thread the owl feathers in the cascade of curls and strategically woven braids framing her sharp, waiflike features. Seeing Frigga dazzling a teal frock twinkling her evening stones with the realm's famous golden immortal roses peppering an articulate braid ending mid-breast, the priestess mutters for Geffjon, the handmaid appointed to her, to finish her task. "I hope I age as gracious as you, Frigga. You are captivating."

The royal woman humbly states, "I have a feeling you shall age finer than the richest wine, dear. I see you don the feather of your _Ehwaz_ companion. Purple has always suited you well."

"Verily. I assume you spoke to Nerthus as well?"

"Not yet. I came to you first. Vor tells me you visited the library earlier. Did you find what you seek?"

_Gods she sounds precisely alike Loki. Now I understand where he inherited his inquisitive nature. _

"Yes and no. I was hoping you would lend me the knowledge I quest."

"Of course. But first, I wish for a word with you."

Swiftly and silently taking cue, young Geffjon ties the end of a thin braid and steps outside the room to tidy the chambers of strewn fabrics and assumingly prepare the evening frock Inia shall don for the festivities.

"Loki confided in me regarding your confrontation earlier. He knows not if he did something to provoke such a reaction from you and he feels lousy about channeling his aggravation onto you. I am not making assumptions nor am I upset, dear, I just wish to know what happened. Tell me, are you well?"

"Yes, I am well. Simply overwhelmed, I suppose."

"Dear, you need not to protect me from truths. You are in a safe place, we are safe. No harm shall come to us as long as we are united and are truthful with one another, do not forget this. So tell me, what irks you?"

Feeling the softness of a maternal touch rove her curls and sashay them behind a shoulder, exposing her face and shoulders to the brightly lit gathering of delightfully smelling candles dotting the vanity and fur-pelted marble floors, Inia looks at Frigga's encouraging reflection. She sighs dismally, unable to deny her regent mother. "The night before our arrival, I foresaw an event. I know not when this shall happened, for I could not distinguish much my environment, but I knew well enough twas celebratory. I was dancing with a figure whose face I could not distinguish. All I felt was the coolness of his pale hands and then…"

"All is well, dear," Frigga plays loftily with strands of white silk, hawking her goddaughter with an intelligent rosy glean. "Heed your memory, there is no need to rush your words."

"…peridot. Those eyes were the most striking color of green I have ever seen."

Frigga's hands freeze.

"I know now who it is. The resemblance is uncanny, but only he would be able to make me feel such a way."

"Oh?"

"I mean, he…he is beautiful. Yes, he is mischief, lies, and chaos personified, but he is so much more, Frigga. He is dark and mysterious, observant and sharp, untamed but so considerate. He is a unique sort of dark beauty that cannot be matched by another. He fascinates me. When I went to accept his hand in dance and our flesh met…" Tapping her fingers on her thigh and moistening her lips, her eyes flash upward and connect with the Queen's intensity.

"Go on."

"Everything was blue and red all at once. Cold yes, but so comforting." Serene and still, Inia counts the beats of silence that pass before the AllMother speaks again.

The irony does not escape her notice when exactly nine breaths pass that Frigga sighs and justifies the predicament.

"I apologize for this burden Odin and I have placed upon you. Had we told Loki long ago you would not have foreseen this as a liability and thus placed you in the center of our stronghold." The smallest of smiles touches her lips whilst hope shimmers her eyes. "In the same breath, it gladdens my heart that you of all know. You must understand that we initially stowed the truth of his parentage to protect him. Asgard had not the grace as Vanaheimr regarding Jotunheimr so we never wanted to endanger Loki in any form. I love him and Thor dearly and I fear the consequences of Odin's choice to stow this for so long from the very one it regards. I happen to know my son better than anyone in the Nine and it devastates me to know the immense feelings of heartache and betrayal he may face. …that he _has_ faced." She squeezes Inia's shoulder. "But with your arrival on Asgard, I feel the Norns has blessed us. I see many similarities paralleling you and my son, but there are differences that stark and contrast magnificently. In your similarities I imagine you shall unite, but these differences shall strengthen each other."

She frowns, _Unite? I cannot do such a thing. I forbid myself to burden another with my own stronghold and alignment with the Norn Fates by becoming a priestess. What she says, it cannot be nor shall it ever. I understand Frigga means well and yes, I shall do all in my power to aid Loki in these times lurking in the near future only in the form of virtue. Tis the only way I can help him, my vow of sainthood prevents me from seeking longings and lust. Yes, tis difficult because he is so strikingly divine but I refuse to allow a single force of any shape deter all the effort I made to become the lady I am today. He may be a sly silver-tongue but I see him transparently; he cannot hide from the truth as none can. … Perhaps this is why Frigga tells me this? In their youthful reign as young queens, Frigga and Gerd were as close as can be without being blood and she never feared my mother's heritage nor has she treated Idunn or I any different than her own children. Perhaps she believes I am able to show Loki that he is not cursed nor that he is anything but a masterpiece chiseled by destiny? I know not, but I seek to know her ponders_.

A deep flush of pink heats Inia's neck. She mutters sarcastically, "I am sure your meaning of 'unite' is vastly different from mine."

Frigga simply smiles.

"Who else knows?"

"Odin, Eir, myself, and now you. None else." Loki's mother fiddles here and there, arranging, sweeping, laying, placing, and twirling snow white tresses around jeweled fingers.

"What of Thor? He has slain more Jotnar than any other. Forget feeling fright and despair over the revelation of his heritage, Loki shall want nothing more than to be far from his brother or he shall be so ashamed he may lose himself trying to accept this farce of normalcy. Well, if he would still see Thor as a brother." Inia absentmindedly rubs the sash of her robe between her fingers, fiddling madly in anxiety's grasp. "I hope my words shan't come to pass, but it would be foolish to not consider all possibilities."

"I agree. I know not of Thor reaction, but I hope he directs his outrage to the proper party."

_Odin. While I cannot order the AllFather, I certainly would have advised him to reveal the truth to Loki to avoid the possibility of confrontation and tragedy had he summoned me long ago. I would have prompted foresight from the Norn within myself with the assistance of something belonging to the Prince and could have prevented this. Damnation. Why can nothing be simple? Must there always be suffering and devastation lurking every turn? Tis incredibly tiring. Norns help me_.

"Please keep this matter for our ears alone. _Please_."

Inia steadily links their gaze, her neck angled sharply over her shoulder. "If he asks, I cannot deny him honesty."

"Then do not give him reason to ask. But there is something else I must request of you, a contingency if you will."

"Of course."

_What if he enquires? Then what shall I say? How shall I say it? That place is for his father and mother, not I, a stranger. _

"If something is to endanger the life of my son, I request you beckon Gaea to offer him refuge in the Mother-Realm with compassion and discretion. Vanaheimr has no quarrels with Jotunheimr due to the treaty of peace and nuptial of Njord and Skadi long ago and have reinstated these terms with the arrangement of Freyr and Gerd. Please, if we cannot haven him here, I beg of you to help Loki accept truth. Please, Inia. I cannot foresee things as you, but I sense a great catastrophe nearing the House of Odin."

Catastrophe is an omen of death in the world of a harbinger, this Inia is sure of.

"Vanaheimr and Asgard are on good terms as well, thus I shall see to it that Mother Gaea may fulfill your request. Also, I shall pray on this in Loki's stead."

A grin alights the entirety of Frigga's face as her soul windows glean relief and an overwhelming amount of absolute trust. Hands circle the shoulders of the young woman occupying a cushioned bench reflecting a graceful perseverance and kisses her crown as emotion seeps into her voice. "You are a blessing to us all, Inia. I thank you, dear. A thousand thank you's."

"Your welcome. Do you still wish to know what happened earlier this day?"

"Oh, yes." A concerned look crests the Queen. "What on Asgard was spoken to affect him in such a way?"

Guilt festers in the cauldron of emotions steeping the pit of her stomach. "Well. I have been pondering this premonition long and hard and had decided to seek masquerade enchantments no matter the realm. I know tis a form of deceit and I cannot wield it _but_ I am not prohibited from bringing to the attention of another party. Cease how you gaze upon myself! I did not want to disturb you and I knew not where Loki was to enquire! I knew not what else to do so I found the library and Lady Vor approached me. I did not have the chance to divulge in any studies there and then, I am on guardian duty and had to return to Nerthus who was resting, but I was interrupted by your son. I have not an idea what could make him so hostile within an hour, we had a fine time before so I knew it had nothing to do with me, yet he tried to relinquish his anger upon me. I claim no innocence in the quarrel, we are both equally at fault but his emotions were not what made me reaction the way I did." Inia sighs deeply, overwhelmed by the memory of the distinct scent. Her hand snakes around Frigga's that circles her shoulders and leans into the queen's shoulder, inhaling the Asgardian scent marring Her Majesties' skin. "If he touches me, the truth shall be revealed. I kept us apart but when he became close, I smelt winter's depth in the chill of his breath. It called forth memories of Mother I was unaware that I suppressed and it caused a scene. I did not mean for this to happen and I certainly do not wish him to blame himself for a sadness I have that he had not caused nor can control. … Do you know if any others witnessed this? If so, how many?"

"None that I am aware of. A guardian was called into the library moments before Loki approached you in the corridor. If it is my presumption, I assume my son falsified it to have a word with you. He is sly, mischief personified if you have forgotten."

_Trust me, I have not nor may I ever forget_, Inia snorts in reply. She frowns, _and therein lies my dilemma_.

"Well, he did not let on the intent of his discussion. He mentioned seeing me in the library and confessed that he would have helped if not for Lady Vor intervening, he then proceeded to enquire if I found what I seek. Even I must acknowledge how cryptic he is. How can you make sense of half the words that leave his mouth?"

"I raised him. I know him. Worry not, adapt to it after a while and more times than not he becomes predictable." Frigga winces and sternly pleas, "Do _not_ utter a word of that to him."

Inia giggles.

Frigga smiles. "Worry not of the illusionary enchantment. It shall be done by my hand before I have word with Odin to inform him of your knowledge. Also, if there is anything you may know of Jotnar histories or any form of studies, may you please share these things with me? I am interested to master these things for the wellbeing of my son."

"Yes. We have many tomes in our libraries regarding Jotunheimr's histories from the realm's lands to the medicinal practices and their tribal cultures. Even their philosophies, cuisine and fashion. Before the end of _Jera_, I shall summon Skirnir and provide these texts for you, Frigga."

"Is he to be trusted?"

"Skirnir is Yggdrasil's courier, messenger of the realms. He does his duty faithfully and covertly. Thankfully, he is not one to question the motives of another nor is he one for gossip so I have not a reason to disclose the nature of my yearning these studies. He shall not ponder any requests, I assure you."

Appreciation shines in her gentle manner of etiquette as she beckons Inia out of the water closet to the adjoining wardrobe. "Come along, we must clothe you with your frock and allow Geffjon to finish your festive cosmetics."

"Must she? Can I not go out looking as I am?"

"You could, yes, but I am afraid that it would cause the men to riot at your feet in your natural state of beauty. We cannot have that now, can we – "

"INIA!"

_Nerthus_.

Bolting off the dais fisting wads of the robe's hem, Inia races to the door joining their double chamber not manifesting Heill and rearing back his bowstring to produce a gleaming white arrow. Arrow nocked with mastery form sighted directly on the young royal, she notes Frigga's frock whisk around in her peripheral and glints at the pair of aghast handmaidens huddled in the corner. Seeing and sensing that harm no longer plumbs the ambiance, she lowers the enchanted longbow and scans the suite in its entirety cautiously before gliding to the open balcony, ignoring the drapes fluttering around her in the breeze.

_What happened here? _

Scoping close and near, far and wide through the sight of her favored weapon, Inia decimates the arrow into nothingness by simply releasing her pull on the bowstring and marches inside. "Are you wounded?"

"No." Murmurs a shaken, trembling Nerthus.

"Oh my, what happened here?"

Inia glances around the room habitually seeking clues and raises a brow at a battalion of crimson hawks, the elite royal guardians, standing at attention in the entrance of the bed chambers, dwindling halfway within the foyer incase their queen is in need of protection.

"Nerthus, what attacked you?"

Nerthus clarifies, "Who. Not what. _Who_ attacked me."

"Who attacked you?" Frigga pries softly at the foot of the veiled mattress, soothingly brushing loose caramel blonde out of the Princess' glistening eyes.

"The maidens were finishing my cosmetics when I happened to glance in the vanity. What I saw…she was looking right at me. Her smile was a thing of horror, her eyes were darkness."

"Nerthus, please. We cannot prevent the intrusion again if you cannot tell us."

"I-I am not the one she desires."

Inia's eyebrow raises curiously in reply to the distress and hesitation scrawling her fair features. "She?"

"Yes. She desires darkness everywhere within everything."

"What? Why? Speak her name. Who is this foul woman you protect?"

Nerthus' head snaps up as does her body decorated in a persimmon orange evening frock dotted with rose gold sequence. Her voice seethes inches from the face of her guardian, "Do _not_ accuse me of protecting a monster! I am _not_ protecting her!"

She hardens back, feeling purple Norn _sedir_ alight the fingertips of her free hand as the other holsters Heill tightly. "Then speak her name! Give me the truth willingly before I compel you to do so!"

"Y-you would not do that to me."

Coils of frustration tightening and testing her patience, the priestess hears her voice grovel much darker than she intends. "If it means your protection and of others, I would, as it does. For the love of Gaea! _Tell me now_."

"Kar –"

The echoing boom of double doors sound in the foyer, altering the group of an incoming presence.

The three ladies exchange a wary glance.

Loki treks in the chambers donning an air of urgency; peridot scan the trio of women, hovering over Frigga the longest conveying something of an unknown topic to the Vanir natives, a swarm of crimson hawks intimidatingly lining each entryway. "Mother," He greets.

"What is it, my son?"

"Odin summons the attendance of the Harbinger and the Princess to the throne room. Immediately. I am to escort you."

"Escort? What of Thor? If you are here then he should as well." Nerthus slips into a pair of elegant sandals as her face pales further in trepidation whilst processing the collective tones of Frigga's whispered affirmations. Her hands continue to quiver and fret no matter how small she makes her fists or how often she refolds the silken robe around her lithe silhouette, unknown of another Vanir native with snow white hair studying these subtle nervous ticks, pink garnet gems swathed with fierce concern and determination.

"Very well." Nodding to Loki, Inia passes Heill to the guardian she recalls questioning earlier before the library fiasco and cradles her kin's limp, disheartened hand, twining it into her own. To her despair, Nerthus' eyes glistening unshed tears.

_What was she shown to shake her so? _

Understanding her Princess' wounded emotions, she kneels and tilts her neck to scour the terror twisting sharply, identical to a knife deep into the depths of her soul. "Nerthus, I know not the extent of what you saw and it wounds me greatly that I had not been able to prevent this affliction. Do you recall what my Mother always said in times of tragedy?"

"Strength shall find you sooner than you ever thought it would." They speak in unison, and both snap to Frigga who also adopted Gerd's tongue.

Nerthus smiles meekly, mimicking Inia.

As confidently as she sounds, Inia summons a vigor of courage and hopes it translates in her tone and the hopeful squeeze she gives. "Draw from my strength as you have before and I have yours. We shall overcome this, whatever dare cross our path. It shall be slain as long as we are together. Shall you walk with me, Nerthus?"

Her speech must have had its desired effect because Nerthus sweeps the caramel blonde of hair curtaining her face wearing a steely resolve. "I shall."

-O-

Bowing in salutations to the AllFather, she stands before the glory of a gilded dais with a stiff, doe-eyed Nerthus flanking her. "I am here, Your Grace."

Odin sits regally upon the throne, Gungnir clutched in a meaty fist as the other drapes neutrally on the armrest. "Did you foresee this attack?"

"No." She replies as simply and stoically as him.

"Why?"

Inadvertently, she flickers to the green and black figure lurking aside Frigga steps below the pinnacle of the dais to sympathetically center the line of conversation upon herself, not a frightened Nerthus, and quickly blinks from his quizzical eyes painting a cool mask of indifference. "I know not."

"Then allow me to enlighten you, child."

_Norns give me patience_, she internally sighs, _the chastising begins_.

"The fatherland Nornheim of Asgard has once again become shadowed by black Norn _sedir_. Nornheim's Dark Queen is at work and she seeks the bestowments of your blood for herself, as she believes the power of the Norn Fates you have been bestowed is her birthright alone. Karnilla seeks vengeance for her misgivings and strikes now that you have returned to Asgard, desiring darkness to consume all of everything in her wake and beyond."

Karnilla. The Enchantress Supreme that mothers darkness, flanked by droves of shadow demons. The monster who slain her mother. That Karnilla.

_Gracious Norns! No. Anyone but Kar – that MONSTER!_

"H-_how_ can this be? She is bound to Nornkeep Palace with little resources, no crafts and she –"

"We know not." Odin silences her emotional exclaim with a small raise of his palm.

There are limited options of procession. How did she not see Karnilla reemerging after all this time? Why was there no alluding to this? She saw Loki coming but not Karnilla? What sort of jest is this? Karnilla is the adversary, she MUST be stopped and condemned for violating the Nornheim-Asgard treaty. If they do not find a way to stop her soon she shall wreak havoc upon the royals here and dare Inia think, they could come to Vana Palace and slay everyone to sate her vengeance. It would be _so_ easy with Freyja away in Muspelheim for fertility affairs, unable to guardian the imperial House of Gaea as First Valkyrie... This must end here and soon or else consequences shall arise. "_Catastrophe_", Frigga's voice reverberates in her mind. Inia remembers the news of Gaea stripping Karnilla of all crafts and banishing her from Vanaheimr as punishment for her murderous transgressions against the realms. Odin made sure to physically bind her to her own astral plane of Nornheimr for eternity which was the severest conduct he could commence since she truly is not of Asgardian heritage despite ruling the miniscule land of Nornheim of which the Norn Sisters where born and slain and ultimately resurrected to throne Yggdrasil's branches of the universe, harnessing the forces of time now and forever. Despite losing her titles of nobilities and forging her own dark, twisted kingdom in the scared, archaic, and forbidden legend of Nornheim, Karnilla holds no crafts of magic. So who does the dark queen's bidding? Who quenches the former Enchantress Supreme in her thirst for vengeance? For what purpose is this happening? Vengeance is not a lasting stimulant, it burns strong and rampant but it flickers and extinguishes quickly; vengeance gains no eternal satisfaction. What is the true motivation? What does she hope to accomplish by gathering and wearing Inia's entrails, painting and drinking her blood and donning her eyes? No, no, wrong enquires. The correct one is simple: what is it Karnilla _seeks_?

"Mm. So, it is I she is after?"

"Ultimately, yes."

Rather flippant in her tone and stoic in her demeanor, Harbinger voices the worry plaguing all their minds sounding much more brazen than she lets on. "What do you believe she would do if she acquires me? Drain me of my blood to gain craft, a source of pure Norn _sedir_? Torture, certainly. Perhaps she would replace her eyes with mine –"

"Enough of these foul words!" Frigga intervenes, startling those in her radiance to awe at the finality and power in her words. "You shan't fall into her wicked hands. We shall protect you, do you understand?"

"Yes." Ashamed and saddened greatly for burdening them greatly with herself, she discretely wipes away the iciness of unshed tears before they fall with the heel of her hand, simultaneously wiping the literal stress from her stoic face.

"Good. Then no more of this. When dawn breaks, I shall summon the mage coven to devise concealment and shield enchantments. Hopefully with us all together we may be able to form a barrier around Asgardia so this cannot happen again. Loki, I request your assistance with this in the morn."

"As you wish, Mother."

"Very good, my beloved." Odin nods. "In relation to the circumstances, I task you to investigate the situation of both past, present, and future afflictions. With this in mind and accounting for your safety whilst on Asgard, I relieve you of guardianship over Princess Nerthus and declare Thor her guardian."

Flashes of Nerthus in Thor's embrace in the meadow pillage the forefront of her mind's eye –

_~ Six colors of omnipotence slam into her senses, alike the Bifrost, but in separate gems of vibrancy unique that hum a beauty of an addictive hypnosis broader than the sweet mermaids of Niflheimr each harnessing their own creations and destructions. Blue. Yellow. Red. Purple. Green. Orange. ~ _

She swims within the cryptic premonition, numb to Nerthus' hands clasping hers gently due to the residual haze of an otherworldly starriness rolls her eyes a brilliant purple and deaf to semi-familiar deepness of the AllFather commanding something or another.

_What importance do colors have in the century to come? _

Suddenly a jolt of epiphany tingles in her head and zaps harshly to her stomach, mentally lurching her into an abyss of preputial dismay for all that is to come. The realization sweeps aside the enlightening cloud suppressing her attention to the present day of Asgard, settling a reassuring sensation of awareness absorbed in each fiber of her being within her bones and beyond.

_Great gods of yore_, she curses in shock, _the end has already begun_.

Feeling intense green bore into her quite worriedly, Inia's mouth purses, her demeanor tensing. "With all due respect, I must request you to reconsider what you suggest."

"_Suggest?_ A command is not a suggestion, child. Nerthus may be in Thor's care unless I say otherwise." He retorts.

How can he request her aid and demean it in the same breath? And dare call her "child" as if she is gal ignorant of her truth and might. Rather swiftly, Inia reminds herself of the farce he bestowed his son which further appalls, angers, and renews her spirit.

"Pardon me, Odin, but there's not a chance in Hel I can allow this."

"Inia!" Nerthus hisses desperately at her side, a rush of sheepishness coloring her.

Inia insists, "If you believe my suggestion so frivolous then by all means explain this to the one who desires my blood so she may cease this ridiculous quest for vengeance! Whatever the Norns bestow me to speak is not without purpose, Odin! You above all know this so do not disregard me as some witch! I have reason to protect Nerthus just as you me. Heed my words, _please_."

"I apologize, but my decision has been made. Thor may be her guardian and that is that. We shall speak no more of this."

"NO! The Vanir traditions _demand_ she be remain pure for my blessing of fortune so Vanaheimr's future is blessed under her reign!" Odin parts his mouth looking stern and dismissive but Inia surges to the foot of the dais and levels a haunted, watery gaze with him.

Odin's eyebrows skyrocket to his hairline, taken aback by her desperation and fear that was once so unabashed and passionate not a moment before.

"You do not understand! Things are changing across Yggdrasil! I feel it in every breath I take!" Her lips sorrow and the telltale coolness of tears line her cheeks to jaw. "I know not what this titan of a force is but a time is near where the realms shall come together in a time of a great decimation across the universe in an infinite battle. I feel pain that has not yet been felt by those to perish. I hear the anguish of their loved one's sobs...nothing haunts me more than these glimpses, AllFather. _Please_. Vanaheimr shall be needed in this catastrophe and without the blessing of fortune for Nerthus' pure reign, I fear Vanaheimr be one of the firsts of all to end. If you simply heed my words, such a small decision may blend into others and change this fate for all of us. Without the _sedir_ realm intact, surely we all are doomed."

"Near you say? When?" Thor's booming voice severs the thicket of silence.

She wets her mouth, dreading the answer. "I sense it no later than one century of Asgardian-Vanir time."

"Dear Gaea!" Nerthus gasps, gobsmacked alike the royal family.

"You are certain of this?" Frigga moves forward to clasp each of her sons' hands, a stricken expression pinching her eyebrows.

"Absolute. Karnilla's involvement solidifies my beliefs, for all the forces of darkness shall rally as one against the life light of the universe. …This is the beginning of the end of everything."

"Then this is our final _Jera_." Odin states solemnly.

Nerthus steps forth and ties a hand to Inia, the loaded exchange of fear, sorrow, and tremendous love conveying their glance meaning more than words ever could. "But we can change this fate, can we not? A millennium for Midgard may be but a century to Asgard, for we Vanir live long alike our Aesir brethren, but time translates differently across each realm. Again, take Midgard for instance. Tis a treasured feat if one of their own lives a full cycle of their century. Speaking from my heart, I believe we can avoid these misfortunes only if we act accordingly _now_."

Pride, admiration, gladness, and hope glimmers in Inia's fuchsia sapphires.

Her beliefs of Nerthus' prosperous reign seem to becoming true as well.

_Praise the Norns_.

A rare glean of surprise, approval, and overall respect lightens the King-Father's single inquisitive eye.

Heartbeats of silence pass for what feels eons with four pairs of eyes belonging to Frigga, Inia, Thor, and Loki flickering to one another in unanimous agreement, each holding their breaths ventured from the smog of tension thickening between Nerthus and Odin who, impressively, never break their thread of stoic sight.

"What is it you propose, Princess?" Odin caves.

The room releases a mental, collective sigh perspiring relief.

"I um…well, it may not be any consolation…" Sucking a breath through her nose, Nerthus glances hopefully to Frigga, suddenly conscious of five expectant gazes heavily upon herself and expels a flooding proposition seemingly in a single breath. "If what Inia has seen may come to pass and the realms are to align, then it beckons an insinuation of Midgard harnessing a weapon powerful enough to rival against the forces of darkness. If this is so, I would not be opposed to sending an ambassador to warn and prepare them as the sister realms converge for war and relay this revelation throughout Yggdrasil. They cannot help if they know not and I believe the Midgardians have the right to know because their place in Yggdrasil is of equal import as Asgard and Vanaheimr. After all, the realms balance the universe _together_."

"Aye." Inia states whole-heartedly. "I agree."

Thor scoffs dismissively, "An ambassador? Who would voluntarily journey to such a desolate realm of dirt? Who is to say they may comprehend these words at all to join this infinite war the Harbinger speaks of?"

Frigga and Loki's eyebrows piquing with astonishment at the blatant statement, as it does not escape Inia's notice either much to the dark prince's ever-growing curiosity.

Nerthus narrows her sight on the golden prince, rhetorically retorting, "Who is to not say so? Surely _you_, the All-Knowing, Foreseeing Thor."

Immediately, Inia's hand rests on her kin's shoulder to defuse the bickering and quell the boiling temper of the prince and princess trading glowers. "On behalf of the Norns, I forgive your arrogance and shall proceed to give His Highness the benefit of the doubt concerning His ignorance."

Loki snorts an abrupt laugh, drawing a crowd of eyes, and wipes a smooth hand over a manically grinning mouth. Said smile does not leave a peridot gaze.

Thor looks sharply from Loki to Inia with brash anger accompanying upmost embarrassment; large fists ball at his sides as topaz eyes flame with annoyance and offense.

Frigga quirks a smirk but places a hand on Loki's shoulder to calm and cease his torso rattling silent, mirthful laughter.

"I shall ponder everything greatly before revealing this to the war council for advice. As of now, we may proceed with the festivities as planned and enjoy this harvest of rebirth. This revelation shan't pass our lips until I deem so, for I do not wish chaos dwelling the commonwealth in a time of celebration nor worry our kingdom if need not. Frigga, you and Loki may discretely proceed with the mage coven as discussed regarding Karnilla and I shall ponder Thor's guardianship of Nerthus and have come to a decision by dawn. For tonight, Inia may remain as Nerthus' guardian until that time. Inia, you are to mediate on these things, find sense in them and deftly report to either Frigga or myself." Blue eye unwavering, he white-knuckles the sentient staff, anticipation radiating throughout the room. "… I have one final question for you, Harbinger."

"Yes?"

"What do you address this titan force of darkness?"

"I know not, its face has yet to be revealed to me. All I know is that it dwells in the depths of darkness surrounded by death, so much that I have not been able to press beyond its shadow. But I shall."

"Indeed. You may all take leave."

**AUTHOR'S NOTE****: YAY! Finally another Chapter! Whooo-hooo! Just 1 new ****Face Claim**** this time around, guys :( Thank u 2 those who are following and have favored this fic! I freaking love Loki & Inia is probably 1 of my top 3 favorite OCs I've ever done. So, as always, CC during R&R is always ALWAYS appreciated! Have a great day, guys! xoxo**

**~_ Norn Vision/Foresight_ _as Harbinger_~**

**LADIES****:**

**Helen Mirren – Vor, Asgardian Goddess of Wisdom | Var, Asgardian Goddess of Awareness**


	5. 4

4

Inia sat beside Nerthus facing the two princes during the first feast of _Jera_ that evening.

The Palace was in full bloom, guardians on high alert as invited courtiers, noblemen and their fair lovers phased to and fro the dining hall into an adjacent ballroom where a boisterously infectious orchestra thumped heartbeats to rhythmic naker and long tabor drums, recorders and flutes sang whimsically to lift spirits, bells and tambourines rang and chimed in no particular succession but joy, and lutes of all varieties paired finely with the traditional dances sequencing the ostentatious audience with great merriment.

The halls, quarters and corridors held an eerie, ominous orange glow of flame Inia knew was meant to be passionate and sensual aside the floras intermixing the gold ornamentation, but in light of recent discoveries she found it anything but. Nerthus, bless her, stuck at her side loyally without hesitation and played the perfect ambassadorial princess of Vanaheimr Gaea raised her to be. Twas only when Inia insisted she enjoyed her youth in the exuberance of the festivities did Nerthus dance her heart out with Fandral who kept his hands to himself after receiving a glare colder than Jotunheimr's wastelands from the priestess. As hard as she tried to amuse herself with Nerthus' shy and awkward antics or awe at Volstagg's seemingly endless appetite, she could not forget the insignificant yet oh so significant colors. Halfway through the eve, she questioned her present-mindedness upon spying Fandral sharing various fruits and wine with a fleet of promiscuous ladies she immediately knew to be her Aunt Freyja's esteemed fertility protégés of love, the stunning Lady Hnoss and exquisite Lady Sjofn, and when Sif had taken his place to occupy the Vanir princess speaking about nothing and everything battle related. Though, Inia found it quite amusing when Sif fisted a wad of her crimson frock for emphasis looking down at her feminine garb distastefully. Nerthus' musical laugh warmed her grieving heart yearning nostalgia for the earliest of days, cuing the first, last, and lone smile from the Freyrdottir that night.

The previously reflective floors were sticky and smeared, the heated air tanged in body odor, sweat, mead, and saccharine flowers all in the name of rebirthing the New Century's spring equinox.

_All this celebration and revelry of uselessness for an entire fortnight. The gods of yore and their whims for traditions…_

She finally understood why Loki was "coincidentally" nowhere to be seen after the feast and why Thor was anywhere and everywhere blaring laughter, dancing rambunctiously with a different lady in his thick arms at every turn while his eyes clouded further, unleashing aggression and passion tankard after tankard. Inia remained comfortably seated at the handfuls of table squares, loitering the perimeter of the ballroom observing, cataloging, and memorizing the delight of joyous laughs in the background of their existence. All good things come to an end and she wanted to marinate in the happiness of others even if she could not. To her appreciation, Hogun presented his quiet company despite how little left their mouths. However, he did refill her goblet attentively and offer refreshments to which she declined, satisfied to drink, thankful for his gratuitous kindness. He merely put a hand to his chest and bowed respectfully, a blossom pink sight paralleling hers. Not long after, Thor gathered their attention; he draped himself between Sif and Nerthus, smiling much too broadly and crooning sensually in their ears. The moment Nerthus shuddered and managed to wriggle away from his crushing hold was the same breath Thor whirled her into his side much too carelessly for Inia's taste. Immediately, she slithered through a throng of gyrating shapes, carelessly stepping on several frocks and boots in the process, and leveled the prince to his knees with precise kicks to the underside of his knees. Sif chuckled, expanding his astonishment in jests as Nerthus glared, twining a hand automatically in Inia's. Thor was not happy; copious shouts, slanders, and lewd curses fell from his tongue directed at the priestess, herding unwanted attention of partakers, and uttered how unworthy she was of sainthood due to her "icy heart". Inia nearly gaffed in his face but restrained herself to not progress the situation and wore a mask of blank diplomacy by default birthed from a womb of self-preservation. Hogun and Fandral calmly held Thor back as Sif rooted before the massively blonde, blocking him from charging the Vanir guests of honor. Angry and saddened, Nerthus told Thor of her disappointment in him and stalked off, leading Inia out of the fray as the warriors looked to her apologetically. The pair spoke of the incident and decided grudges do not prosper but Nerthus would demand an apology in the morning rather Inia begrudgingly wanted one or not. The remainder of the eve was spent in the depths of a hushed library studying Midgardian lore after Nerthus reconfigured the lock with her craft by manipulating metallic doors.

Dawn breaking first light over the horizon of Asgard's many suns far and near elevating the realm of darkness through the constant twinkles of stars dotting a cerulean sky, a breeze caresses all it touches. Gold banners strewn from the exposed walls of the Asgardia Palace centered in the flat realm's capital, Asgard City, puff and flag in no such rhythm.

Inia wakes to something warm jostling her shoulder. Cracking an eye open in her comfortable position consisting of her face somewhat smashed into a pillow, laying on her stomach, limbs outstretched, she grunts into the bundle of feathers and silk to curl further into herself, pulling a second pillow into her chest for snuggling. Something taps her nose, leading her hand to instinctively yet sluggishly wave aside the ticklish disturbance in the fuzzy state of her hushed mind.

"Interesting. I did not imagine you would be one for cuddling."

_Oh! – What on Asgard is HE doing in MY CHAMBERS? Please be wearing a robe; please be wearing a robe; please be wearing a robe… AH! Yes! Praise the Norns. _

Drawing the loosened material tighter to her slenderness and securing the sash behind the view of a particularly fluffy pillow to deflect the green prince's wandering eye, she squares her shoulders and narrows her eyes accusingly. "What in the name of Yggdrasil are you doing in my chambers? I shall only enquire this once so answer wisely."

"My, we are grumpy in the morn." Loki _tuts_ with a click of his tongue, continuing to linger by her veranda doors watchfully.

"I am grumpy because for once I was sleeping soundly until a rather _mischievous_ prince disturbed me! Have you not any etiquette to announce yourself before entering another's chambers? Those who disturb my sleep usually leave with something that may have once been a nose; you are fortunate I recognized you. Now, what is it you desire?"

"_Ooh_, you wound me." He places a dramatic hand over his heart and looks at her over a shoulder sporting a glimmer of something peculiar dancing in those striking eyes. "For someone so grumpy and _ahem_, violent, you are quite a rambler in the morn."

_What is he doing? How did enter? Why on Vana did the guardians allow him entrance to begin with!? _The core of her being flutters anxiously, beating not unlike butterfly wings methodically akin to her heart_, Gods, why is he wearing that face as he gazes upon myself? Tis…unnerving and undiscernible. How long has he been in here? Does he realize I have nothing beneath this robe? Good gods, Inia. Of course! He is a man! I must find reason to dismiss him immediately. Ugh, must he stare? Does he ever blink? Our last encounter was not savory so why is he not rebuking me or avoiding me? This is concerning_.

"Cease this."

"Cease what?"

"Smiling. You are beginning to worry me. What have you done? I am I going to be ambushed?" Sitting primly below violet silk sheets and hugging the pillow to her chest, Inia takes herself seriously and scopes her surroundings avidly for anything out of place.

"Perhaps next time. Frigga wished to accompany you this morn, but Odin requested her presence in royal court and sent me in her stead bearing first meal."

"Mm. Should I trust that you have not poisoned my tea?" She half ponders-half measures him. "Or should I avoid the marmalade?"

"Now, whatever gave you the idea that I would ever harm you?" Loki half smirks-half sneers, sounding dejected and…wounded?

"I see Frigga had word with you."

He says nothing.

She sighs. Loosening her circulation on the pillow to tilt skyward, she fully faces his sulking stature boring into her impassively. "Loki, you did nothing amiss. My reaction did _but_ did not have anything to do our proximity nor your touch. I need you to understand that my senses are always heighted and extremely sensitive when the Norns reach for me and I cannot control myself in their hold because I react to something I see here, and feel there, wherever there may be in that moment." She motions to her temple with an index finger then her heart where his sight lingers on her chest, washing her in momentary shyness upon witnessing his sight follow; she tightens the fabric around herself to cover any skin, unknown to Inia how she only succeeds to contour each taut curve of her form. "I know you would not harm me intentionally, so I request you to cease this guilt, hesitance, regret or whatever other negativities you feel concerning us – err, _me_. I hold no malice for you, only mild annoyance, admiration, respect and amusement. I know not how those are able to dwell within the same breathe but they do in me for you. Also, I apologize for the confusion. I um, hope you can accept this."

"I appreciate the explanation," In a regal manner, he bows a carved chin wreathed by humility. "All is forgiven."

"Thank the Norns." She mutters. Hunger pains strike her stomach in an onslaught, making her arms clutch the pillow pressed to her torso for dear life. "You spoke of first meal. Where?"

"The veranda, of course. It would be a pity to let a pleasant morn lay waste. I shall await you there as you fashion yourself in something more _presentable_." Before Inia chances a clever retort, Loki glides outside leaving the pale haired royal to her own devices.

_Presentable? Does he expect me to bathe whilst he dwell in my presence? That is highly inappropriate and I especially do not trust his mischievousness enough to not spy_.

Inia does the minimum so she may feast quicker in the form of a flesh-tone slip beneath a nighttime frock colored akin to her blush-toned eyes, the modest material lazily fastened and airy on her stature as bare feet toast fantastically against the veranda's marble. Her fist rubs the grogginess from her eyes; both hands wipe down her face tiredly as her body plops unceremoniously, heading the table opposite of a mirthful prince. "I am weary and famished. Please, spare me by holding off that silver-tongue of yours at least until this meal is over when I may be more coherent and you more bearable."

"But you sound quite coherent to my ears, my lady."

Softly blazing fuchsia gems center on Loki faster than Skirnir's feet, glazed with exhausted aggravation, irritation and frustration in all their conjoined lethal seriousness.

"Perhaps you have a point…" Though his statement means to humor and pacify her, his regard is clearly cataloging the new information as his body rather consciously or unconsciously aligns to mirror hers.

A fine spread of sweet and savory separates the pair. Sweet cakes, fluffy biscuits, and warm breads lay aside syrups, butters, savory gravies, marmalades, herbal porridges, and ripe fruits. Lines of skewered proteins steam the air, wafting the noses of two, expanding their appetites for savory delicacies. Flagons of wine, juices, and milk center the table upon a rotating disc, per usual the luxurious feast for a royal of the golden realm.

Loki motions to the lavish spread, gentlemanly allowing her the first honor to fill her belly.

Soon a little bit of everything decorates her dish. A slice of ham drizzled marginally in gravy, a handful of fruit including a golden apple harvested by Idunn herself, and a half buttered-half marmalade biscuit. A goblet of juice tops off the hearty meal, leaving Inia pleased and satisfied by the time she polishes her dish and swallows her second goblet. She commences a double glint of disbelief and suspicion, seeing Loki scoping her intently void of a smile.

Suddenly she prefers the smiling.

"What is on your mind?"

"One would suppose you enjoy cuisine."

Well, that was far from the line of discussion she thought he would embark.

_Smartly, he spoke as a statement, not an enquire nor an implement of nothing negative. Naught but a mere observation… _

Plucking an indigo grape for reference, she contemplates it between her thumb and index finger before chewing it. "Yes, I do. Asgard has tastes that cannot be found within any other realm. I consider these things a delicacy."

"You moan whilst you eat. Are you aware of this?"

_Yes, _she grumps_, Idunn says I mewl akin to a nymph in heat, ridiculously so. I must face the fact that I am a ridiculous creature, that it is simply who I am. _

"There is naught I regret. Consider it my approval of your kitchen's talents."

"You did it last eve as well. Tell me, do you find it pleasurable?" His elbows bare the arms of his chair; long fingers thread a steeple while a leg sprawls horizontal across the other looking incredibly regal in his routinely intricate green, black, and gold garb.

Green. Those eyes gleam an unsettling amount of interest maddeningly belonging to a single individual, seemingly beckoning her to speak. They greedily trace her symmetries at the sound of her gallant smoky voice twanged by a musical accent, his analytical mind surely cataloging and possibly hanging on every expression, word, and subconscious movement of her body. Though in a glimpse, she searches beyond the superficial telltales of his behavior she has quickly become accustomed too and pinpoints something foreign on a man she has never seen aimed toward herself. It could never work in neither her favor nor his so she begrudgingly ignores the natural sensuality of the implication, counting her breaths to slow the warmth drumming in her breast. In her mind, she prays the heat shan't plume her neck, illustrating her inner battle between heart and mind.

"Guiltily so. Cuisine is one of the few things I can enjoy without reservation, though I know not how Volstagg can breathe with how he much he stuff himself." She grimaces. "I mean not to badger him, his talent is both impressive and revolting but Norns, I cannot help but imagine him plundering the battlefield with his volume."

"Agreed."

"What has brought on this good mood? Is it the mages? Were you and Frigga successful in your endeavor?"

"Verily, all is well. Ah, that reminds me."

"What?" An eyebrow inches upward.

"Now, now; no need to be brash, Inia. I shall tell you but first, tell me of your eve."

"By Gaea, if you must wonder then obviously you heard the tale of your brother's unwelcomed advances on Nerthus. Am I correct?"

"You are. Though I wonder from you, not those whose tongue may be prone to embellishments."

"Fandral?" She supposes, recalling the charming swordsman waltzing merrily with her young aunt.

"Among others. By all means, do share."

_Gods is he always so demanding? Well, quite similar to Thor, he is a prince and very habituated to gaining what he acquires anyhow anyway. Tis no surprise. _

"Nerthus refused to leave my side, but I wished her to enjoy her first feast of her first _Jera_ so I requested a song of Vanaheimr of the orchestra and she fell into the melody as I knew she would. She is gifted in the art of dance, I would be mad to not envy her seamless grace in a ballroom. … I favor Hogun; he may be a man of few words but he has a way of expressing himself rather bluntly."

Loki nods his agreement, listening attentively and staring vehemently.

Chest swelling heavily with a deep breath, thick eyelashes kiss the tops of prominent cheekbones as she blinks long and ponderous.

While she admires Loki's astuteness and the rare luxury of an attentive man, she is beginning to regret becoming something of amusement or a fascination to him. If that is what he finds so interesting about her anyway since she truly knows not why he continues seeking her. Idunn is the one who shamelessly grapnels the eye of a man no matter his attachments of another or not in the presence of her unadulterated beauty and a handful of honeyed words. Inia has never been preferred over Idunn ever and the prospect of a man doing so blossoms a yearning she buried long ago on account of her harbinger duty and her priestess vows; in the same breath, the consequences of allowing these things to sustain and permitting it build terrorizes her restless mind, so much so that her heart thumps hard and erratically. But that is a line of thought for another time.

"Throughout the festivities Thor had made his rounds of dancing with whatever lady he could, drinking more mead than I had ever seen a man do, and stumbled upon Sif and Nerthus. Things quickly escalated when Nerthus voiced her displeasure of his demeanor and stepped aside when she was manhandled and retched. I accessed the situation and sent him to his knees. If you have ill feelings about this let me assure you that my means of combat are to warn, not to slay. Then Nerthus left and I followed." A leg folded beneath her, Inia courses a hand through snowy curls when a warm breeze scatters her waist-long tresses, tousling them further as she does her best to quell the goosebumps spiraling her skin at the funny look Loki gives her. "S-so. You were not seen after the feast by Nerthus nor myself. Fandral says your 'vanishing act' is not an uncommon occurrence for you. Are you well?"

"My, that suspiciously sounds suspiciously similar to sentiment. Tell me, were you worried?"

Her eyes narrow at the insinuating jab. "I had not a way to discover for myself, the Norns did not bestow anything unto me nor did I wish to envision anything in a sea of faces due to the emotional repercussions. The warriors did not concern themselves which I cannot fathom if they truly are your friends, much less your brother, so now I simply ask if you are well."

"I am well."

"Mm. I believed I would gain a cryptic answer if I were to enquire of your activities, so I shan't."

"It pleases me greatly that your intellect shines as bright as your eyes."

_Was that a compliment? _

Voting to say nothing in return mostly because she knows not how to proceed after something such as that directed to herself from him, Inia rises and moves inside where her handmaid moves about clearing her chambers.

No longer are there wrinkles in the linen of her mattress which has been pleated and pulled taut, an abundance of pillows stacked against the ceiling-high, ornate headboard.

"Good morn, my lady. _Oh!_ Your Grace, forgive my intrusion – I-I knew not you were here…" Sheepish and nervous, the surprise in her features is replaced it by thinly-veiled frustration when he dismisses her with a half-hazard wave. "Is there anything I may do for you?"

"No, your timing could not have been better. I was just taking my leave. Go about your duties, Geffjon." Hands tied behind his back and forming a crooked smile mysterious to a bewildered Inia centered solely on the Vanir heiress, he bow his head gently. "It brings me great pleasure to know you disarmed the mighty Thor, golden prince of the AllFather among many, and rightly so. Remind me to never anger you." He winks. "Good day, Priestess."

"Good day, Prince."

Once he is well out of earshot beyond the foyer traversing the corridors, Geffjon looks at her charge skeptically though blossoming amusement tugs the edges of her mouth.

"What?"

"I spoke nothing, my lady. Come, I shall draw you a bath and cleanse your hair, you have quite the endeavor ahead of you."

"Indeed, I do."

-O-

She must have fallen asleep because one moment she was sky gazing and construing shapes made up of stars and puffs of collected moisture and the next she is wincing at a blinding moonglade alighting the area so jovial bodies may migrate among the endless flower beds.

Ah. She remembers now. She collected Nerthus for an outing to the market place in need of supplies for her fine arts where she learned of the AllFather's decision to deem Halden, a blunt crimson hawk of the palace, as her personal guard for the unforeseeable future. This brought on a conversation of Karnilla's unknown minion and abilities and the lack of Inia's freedom where she is forbidden to travel beyond the kingdom's capital. Annoyed and frustrated but understanding and grateful, Inia and Nerthus poked around Loki's chambers once he welcomed his foyer to the Vanir women. Apparently he was in the midst of something of import because he seemed vexed. His usually lush raven locks were sloppily slicked and the paleness of his fetching face flushed as if he were in great strain of something…or _someone_. At Inia's concern, he assured all is well and demanded their point of disturbing his concentration. Nerthus frowned at his hostility but Inia scowled and explained their need for a proper guide to the market place since this is Nerthus' first visit to the eternal realm and she was unfit to properly represent the eternal realm seeing as she is not a native Aesir. He smoothed his tunic and agreed, but on the sly condition of partaking in something worthy of his precious time. Nerthus had no idea what on Vana that could be, nor mean, and it said so on her perplexed face. Inia however, had a relative idea and found her suspicion correct as those eyes beheld her so intently she was rooted to the spot; she flippantly wondered not for the first time if Loki was a soul-gazer. Nerthus was sheepish in Inia's stead by the level of intimacy lacing the exchange and took it upon herself to wander within his personal library that nearly encompassed the perimeter of his abode; her movements were cautious as she blinked between the dreamy pair and let them be as they were. Twas a dangerous decision considering how haughty he looked, doubling his usual intimidating aura. After terse counts of charged tension, he stepped closer and closer until Inia found herself face-to-face with endless shrouds of fervent peridot mirroring warm sapphires. Hands did not caress her nor his slim, pink lips but he did curl one of her twin braids and rubbed its lush texture in the pads of his fingers, fixated on the simplicity of the yearning touch. In that moment she knew her premonition of their cerulean flesh was bound breathe life when Loki boldly uttered his longing to hold her in his arms for all the kingdom to see so no one else's desire for her would ever measure to the capacity he does. His tongue was sharp, deep, excited and adoring. Inia felt the weight of his candor as his cool breathe tickled her cheek, declaring vulgarities of what and how he wished to do to disguised in sweetness sounding alike Valhalla against the shell of her ear. She knew a scarlet blush colored her complexion but also knew such a miniscule thing of arousal paled in comparison to the revelation of his beginning, the eventual revelation of his parentage and livelihood.

Even now as she splays on emerald land soft as the richest silks threaded by Spanda, Queen of the Arachne in Skornheimr, Inia feels the whispers of his fingers lifting her chin as she automatically reverts to the memory of how _right_ it felt to see their boots so _close_ together and digested the lengths of his confession, she feels the feather-light pressure of his thumb skating over a plump lower lip and involuntarily shivers at the prospect.

At least now she can breathe a little easier knowing Frigga kept her word in insuring the illusionary enchantment is stable and intact, letting Inia touch him without reservation if she needed too.

_If_.

Either way, she must thank the Queen the next time they meet.

A quill and a pot of ink remain situated on a golden ornate desk beside a gorgeous satin-bound journal awaiting use in her chambers, without a doubt chosen by mischief himself if the smile his eyes shone as he gifted her the violet artisan tome.

Blue. Yellow. Red. Purple. Green. Orange.

_Heed, Inia. What do they represent? _

There being only one way to understand, Inia poises her spine and kneels her legs below a rosy bedgown wreathing around her shape in lunar light peaking between the oaken canopy above; her breaths inhale deeply through her nose and exhale smoothly from a slightly parted mouth. Instinctually and automatically, the age-old language of ancient Nornheim whispers passed her tongue. "_Nornir of Yggdrasil, mothers of time, sisters of eternity, I humbly summon a request of knowledge of what I seek of which you know entirely. My senses are open to your clarity as I am a servant of your bidding, a child of your cosmic loins,_"

Seemingly coincidentally yet impossibly not, the cold light of the sky shines a note brighter than a hairsbreadth ago. The languid pace of wind epiphanies this square of Frigga's eternal garden, stirring a power so intimate in its familiarity that a pleasured smirk crosses Inia, feels as if she is conversing with a dearest friend. In her meditative state, a cosmic wind of vast purples dashes strands of snow here and there across her face as a lover might.

Feeling the telltale euphoria of an ancient, limitless power pleasantly warming the Norn scriptures carved in her bones, knowing multiple runes mark the surface of her flesh in an ethereal glow of Norn _sedir_, Inia's fingers comfortably hug her thighs. "_You gave me breath of life to fulfill the fate of the universe during my time in this passage of reality, let me have truth so I may declare it to the realms and alight the darkness. I am your instrument. For your bestowment of a wisdom and perception only you may provide brought on through premonition, I thank you for choosing me and hope you continue to enlighten my mind. I understand I may not be a perfect instrument, but prejudice is not in my nature which is something we share, seeing that truth is revealed in time and time is truly the only infinite force in existence that is inescapable to everything and anything. Come unto me, Nornir. I let your will be done_."

The exhales of wind ceases with an ominous hush of air, the stretch of moonglade encompassing the garden beckoning Inia fades; the Norn dialect illuminating the pinkish undertones of her pale honeycomb flesh diminishes as if it were never there at all.

"My, that was glorious."

Inia's eyes widen owlishly. Hand to her pounding heart, she scowls at the silken voice full of elation but is overcome with confusion when she cannot spy him in the cloak of nightfall. Her gaze searches for him behind and forward, above and below the evergreen brush he so stealthily conceals himself within. "Loki? Where are you?"

"Anywhere you are, there I shall be."

Discarding his cryptic answer knowing she would be best to not encourage the dangerous implement of being and encouraging his infatuation, she rises from the cozy impression her frame nestled hours before. It takes a single pass of her palm over a nude thigh to realize her lack of modesty. Inia grabs the dark shawl Halden suggested she equip, noting to thank him later, and cowls it around her neck to fashion her assets so embarrassingly showcased in the dusk lighting due to the transparency of her bedgown. "This better be urgent for you to interrupt my meditations. Please, be proper and reveal yourself. I care not for speaking to a shadow's mystique and not a face."

"Ah. So you admit you wish to see my face?"

_Always one to twist words… _

"No, I must."

_…And I to encourage him. _

A wolfish growl emanates somewhere behind her and cues a rapid beat in her breast, yet she is only greeted by a bushel of white lilies upon searching for the sound's origin. "What is this game, Loki?" She situates primly on a woven gold bench, deciding the best course of action is to be patient, assuming he gleans entertainment ventured in taunting her.

Silence.

"I know not why you do this, most of all why you chose me. I am drab and ridiculous, the night to Idunn's day, if you will. If this is some sort of infatuation or game to you, I can promise Idunn is much more welcoming of these games so please, peruse the fairer sister." Her heart clenches sadly at the confession, reminding her of her yearning to live, to love, but grimly accepting solitude out of necessity. "I am not worth the effort nor the time."

Twas ironic, how someone who was born for so much power and authority could feel so unworthy of it.

"You think yourself worthless?"

Fixating gravely on a red apple tree in the distance, her gaze spots a sudden pair of boots closely to her own and travels up his nightwear consisting of buckled boots, belted black trousers and a loosely tucked green tunic, feeling the intensity of his aura behold her as a sudden sadness, compassion, and incredulity encompasses him. "I think many things of myself, but in short, yes. Why are you here?"

"I," Hands wringing behind his back, his throat clears and a goofy smile touches his lips bordering sheepishness and uncertainty, reminding her of his charming antics as a princeling. "I wish to be in your company. I cannot focus on anything clearly but you, nor could I sleep." His eyes darken seriously, one foot creeping after the other questing toward her. Strengthening her confusions, he gestures to the bench politely of which she grants him consent to accompany her space. "You must understand something about me, Inia. I always have what I desire in the end no matter the consequence and I only desire those of worth."

She refuses to break the thread of eye-contact first and ignores the blush heating her tilted neck to see the strange, yet caring man brought to her by the Norns.

_Everything is and does because of the Norn Fates. Perhaps Loki and I have crossed paths to…well, I know not why but we have none the less and hopefully for good reason,_ she ponders.

"Why are you saying this?"

"Because I am. And I forbid you from speaking such foul nonsense regarding yourself. You are not worthless. Nor do I care for you because of your titles or _sedir_, no. I care for you because you _are_ _you_. Because you are witty, kind, and courageous when you believe others do not notice. Because I see much of myself within you and despite myself, I find myself needing to protect that. Because more than anything, I do not wish you to become me. Because you, Inia Freyrdottir, who is doomed to be an instrument lost in time, a maiden of fortune and truth, are deserving of all the happiness across the Nine." Loki leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees, the fading glare of lunar light sharpening his the bewitching allure of his relaxed but somber profile. "In case it has escaped your notice, I too am not as fair nor as favored as my oaf of a brother." The dark prince and pale princess share a mutual smirk of agreement upon his description of the elemental god; he sighs heavily, furthermore looking much too crestfallen. "I understand, more than you could possibly know, and that is what makes this perfect and utterly disastrous."

_Please let him not be referring to what I believe he is. Norns, please do not make me hurt him. _

"Cease speaking in riddles, Loki. Speak plainly."

"Come now," He smirks wolfishly, yet not unkindly at her. "You are not one for theatrics, Inia. You know exactly what I speak of, do you not?"

Playing with the hem of her shawl and circling an arm amongst her knees, a heavy "_perhaps_" accompanies a deep sigh. Only when an added coolness of Jotunn aura draws her attention to him sitting aside her, dialed toward her, staring at her, does Inia notice the intensity of his candor and…love?

_Impossible_, she rebukes, utterly abashed with the progression of fate.

"This is madness."

"Yes, as chaos is. Feels beautiful and liberating, does it not?"

"You can have anyone throughout Yggdrasil, but of course, you must be difficult and peruse something you cannot have. No, that _no one_ can have." She sighs forlornly and involuntarily inhales the scents of mid-winter tingling her senses. She breathes dreamily, merry and reassured by his invigorating musk.

"Despite popular belief, nothing is impossible and everything has weakness." He replies to the farthest moon dotting the sky, its distance far within the black abyss where tis fabled that many heroes and villains of fate fell away from the Bifrost, their hearts irrevocably changed.

Harbinger trails his line of sight and shudders mildly at the volume of limitless nothingness surrounding the flat, eternal realm. "And what is that meant to imply?"

"Precisely what it implies." He boldly ponders, "Tell me, if you chose not to chain yourself in sainthood, would you consider me a suitor?"

"A suitor." She mulls the idea on her tongue, digesting the acquired taste for a moment and smiles bittersweet at a much closer, larger bluish moon encouraging the shimmering constellations and dusty gossamers of nebulas overhead. "Perhaps in another life, I would let your mouth cover my own and accept your perusal whole-heartedly. Your heirs from my womb may have your green eyes, dark features and keenness aside the warmth of my flesh and kindness. We would teach them all the realms have to offer, cradle them in great sadness and wipe away their tears and nurse them back to health when they wound; they would make mistakes, as greatness does, but they would make any weakness their strength and master those as well. … You would teach them crafts spanning each galaxy and the art of war whilst I primped them to be perfect royals, I imagine similar to your own mother and my own. Because of your adorning love for them and them you, I would find myself quite the avid disciplinarian and would suffer heaps of mischief in retaliation. They would giggle and dash away squealing laughter, you seeming nonchalant and often feigning innocence, but the truth never escaped me even from you in the form of an animated tale, a self-assured look of pride in your eyes. The days would be long and trying, a testament to our devotion, of our passion to create life and observe it bud and blossom and surpass the majesties of ourselves. On the morning of her wedding, you would be dressed to the hilt walking our sole princess down the aisle of our kingdom, our sons standing upon the dais beside their own wives. I would weep bittersweet tears, so glad the houses of our people could make the journey and share our merriment. I know not if we would be in Vanaheimr or Asgard, but it would matter not as long as everyone was together, content and happy until we drew our final breaths tangled as one in a slumber mimicking Valhalla. That would be a great love for a great life. Another life. Perhaps even another reality beyond this one where the Norns never created a harbinger." A lump quickly forming in her throat, Inia masks a hand over her face, astonishment splashing over her in a horror of icy water realizing what she just spoke. Mortified further at the feel of frosty saltwater glistening her face, she scrubs it away and sniffs distain, feeling much too devastation in her heart to brave a look at Loki. "I-I did not know I was going to say such things. I mean, I knew they were there and a desire of my heart of hearts, but to hear how pathetic I am to still yearn for these things is cruel to myself. Norns help me. Sometimes I ponder how much simpler it would be to feel nothing at all than everything."

"Then you would be Karnilla."

His tone was so soft and barely discernible she, for a count, is unsure if he spoke at all but accepts the handkerchief with a mutual look of gratitude he mystically produces from a shimmer of green light. "What is this you speak of?"

"Karnilla perished by the forces of uncontrolled, forbidden black Norn _sedir_ at her own hand. Hela resurrected her, but at the heavy cost for all the light of love in her heart. Truly, the reason she harnessed the forces of darkness is because tis all that consists of her. She is darkness personified."

"Mm, ghastly. Then how do I, Harbinger, not know of this but you, Trickster, do you?"

"We happen to have vast archives within the most bountiful library of the Nine."

Inia brow arches skeptically at the half-truth, doubting the AllFather's council would allow such an explicit detail of information to the commonwealth if Karnilla were to by some miracle of fate, say be free of her _sedir_ bindings to wreak havoc.

She has not yet seen such a thing specifically but is acknowledges that if the dark forces of the universe are to wage war and strike the light of everything good in return, that the incarnation of darkness she herself is a formidable start of this dire conflict.

"Alright, I may have spied a time or two during royal court proceedings. I am a creature of mischief, I cannot be held liable for my inquisitive nature."

She giggles at a resounding memory of his princeling-self exclaiming as much to Frigga during a time when the pressures of duty and titles were of naught import in their first one hundred-years of childhood, a time when his personal guardians were his usual targets of his godly splendor. "I wonder, how many times you have used such an excuse. I sense another piece of that omission to be unsaid, but worry not, I shan't compel anything of you."

"Compelling insinuates an unwillingness," A rogue glean crooks a corner of his mouth whilst mischief swirls in those peridot gems she is positive he knows she favors. "I assure you, I shall never have to be compelled to do anything you request, for I shall never be an unwilling party, Inia."

Censoring the scarlet haze heating her neck and praying nightfall distorts the reaction, she shoves his arm hard enough to push him off the bench onto the feathery grass. "Control that silver-tongue or have it removed, I care not, but you must cease speaking such things if we are to be in each other's company."

"And what makes you believe we may be in each other's company?" One leg bent with an arm across it and the opposing limb stretched out before him, his back against the bench's edge so he faces the lush expanse of the gardens, Loki raises a magenta-mauve dwarfen fireweed he plucks at her feet and offers it rather adorably to Inia radiating a princeling charm.

Feeling the curiosity of his wonder void of malicious or retaliation intent, the platinum haired deity rolls her eyes nearly into another existence in utter exasperation of the ridiculous situation. "Because we shall, and that is all you need to know regarding that. Now, I must be off for the eve if I am to wake at a decent hour."

"Of course," He rises and offers her a chivalrous hand to stand which, to his satisfactory, she accepts and knits their arms in stride albeit hesitantly. "Woe, how Inia hates the morn."

Inia smacks her palm against his chest after a contentment hushes her qualms, unable to fend off a fond smile rising above her initial annoyance. "Oh, mock me all you wish. You may regret it, Loki."

"_Oo_. How cryptic of you. Though I believe shan't, you have a lovely wrath I favor."

Uttering a "_Norns strengthen me_" below her breath that goes unnoticed by her chortling companion grinning more that she can possible recall, Inia finds her place atop the garden's polished stairway once the pair venture beyond foreign floral and hugs her arms equal parts unconsciously and habitually.

For a moment, she misses the strength of his slight stature firm and comforting against her own. In the same breath, Inia remembers who she ponders of, where she is, what hour of the night tis and her duties.

"I thank you for the fireweed…and the company." She finishes shyly, awkwardly. Sensing Halden's presence enter the atmosphere, disturbing the smoldering tension burning ever-so-slowly between he who stands at the base of the stairs and she who towers them. Fishing the fireweed behind her ear to rest proudly in a sea of icy waves, a warm look passing mutually to-and-fro despite her armored distraction of the interruption that never seemed to obscure Loki's view of her whatsoever. She dips her chin amicably, graceful in the gesture of etiquette. "Good eve, Loki." Though, before he can further influence her with such gems stalking her every move, she hardly feels the flutter of her shawl as she treks corridors, knowing her crimson hawk remains loyally on her heels, though a single flame of thought caters her attention,

_Just how long are we going to be in each another's company?_

This night swathed by the canopy of her plush mattress, Inia reflects on the ease of which surpasses her his presence, how a deep, unconscious part of herself trusts Loki on an instinctually emotional level to speak her mind to him, of all individuals. Tis absurd due to them being opposites in nature; she of truth and him of lies. This vexes her as much as she finds it amusing, yet exhausting and exhilarating. Fingers gliding through her hair, she quietly fantasizes what it would feel like to have much thicker, longer, digits combing absent patterns through the glassy strands. This is her final ponder before a lull of soothing blackness overtakes her senses.

_~ Peridot gems swarm the seemingly thousands of purple nebulas starring her vison and immediately notes the unearthly twinkles of blue clouding not only his sight, but his malevolent aura. With a blink, Vanir pink orbs recurs. _

_Ululations of fear and despair plague every direction aside the billows of blackened fires wafting scents of destroyed life, bloodshed, rubble and debris brought on by chaos echoing in the unfamiliar blue skies above. _

_Blue skies? _

_Yes, therein lies tear in reality's space well within a foreboding wormhole of a faraway galaxy spilling forth an ancient army of destruction that Inia recognizes with a screaming amount of dread. _

_Chitari. Great gods of yore, please let it not be, she prays. _

_Lightening scores in the distance toward one of the wormholes, a cape of ruby red she knows in her bones to be Mjolnir's Keeper setting invaders alight with a mighty battle cry. _

_"Thor?"_

_What facet of time does she reside in? _

_"Ah, you have awakened. Good." _

_Whirling to the gallant voice of wickedness, a stare very much alike fuchsia sapphires links upon an eloquent figure sporting green, gold and black armor garb. It takes Inia a long moment of disbelief to process him regarding her with a tight, scorned smile she never imagined in her wildest dreams would be fit upon her. The crazed, malevolent anger glazing his aura permeates a sense of danger throughout her being where she discovers a genuine fear of him and the prospects of all he had gone through to convert him into this berserker. Laying bound in chains on her side, Inia tugs at the contraption trapping her wrists but stiffens with confusion, seeing her arms covered by rose gold arm bracers completing the entirety of armor resembling that of the extinct Valkyrior. "What jest is this? Loki, aid my unbinding. We must find Thor and discern where we are, learn why we are beneath a blue sky and understand what on Vana has happened here…" Eyebrow risen, she scans the high-rise of a demolished penthouse and swivels a scowl at the condescending chortles, a result of her mystified expression. _

_"My, the Norns do work mysteriously," In a hairsbreadth, the trickster is so close she can feel the icy bitterness of his words tingle her cheek as he spats, "Tell me, what Inia are you in this moment? Skornheim? Jotunheimr? Nornkeep? Has the Bifrost brought my demise? DID YOU MOURN A MOMENT BEFORE YOU FORSAKE US?! ABANDONED ME ALIKE ALL OTHERS I HAVE EVER LOVED?!" _

_His fist curling white around a golden scepter does not escape Inia's notice, nor does the creepy blue glow emanating the eye of its hilt's alluringly sharp, curvy head. Resolute and unwavering on the exterior, her heart cracks with each heavy thump of saddened compassion. "Jera. You gifted me the fireweed." Witnessing a combination of realization, desperation, and sorrow flicker and resurface seas of green she knows so well soften the hard lines of an exterior that is not becoming of him, an abruptly harsh swallow of blue drowns the familiarity from his features, reforming him into the cold calculations of a stranger. _

_"I remember that night well." Loki reverts to his pacing back in forth, oblivious to the motions of lilac-fleshed creatures raising Hel upon this place. _

_A behemoth roar echoes distantly, but not distantly enough for Loki who sneers at the shattered windows of the veranda's panoramic view and briefly watches beams of dangerous light trade back and forth. A haze of red and yellow Inia cannot properly distinguish rockets across the veranda swiftly, pursued endlessly by a herd of the ancient drones; a vicious grin creases the expanse of Loki's bone-chilling glare. _

_How can he not care? Clearly this is not any of the realms she is familiar with alike Jotunheimr, Vanaheimr or Asgard, but based on the utopian metropolis of neutral toned buildings tall enough to reach Valhalla themselves, she supposes this is what Midgard may one day become. For a moment whilst observing not-her-Loki prowl the length of the open room, Inia allows herself to feel a measure of pride for the mortal race bud into a facet of hope she did not realize she lacked or needed. _

_"Then despite how young we were, you remember our connection. The strength of our trust." _

_"Tis the reason why I may never allow another to harm me ever again. You are not the version of yourself I detest as much as I once loved. Not yet." He barks venomously, "As tis, I have no corral with your innocence and inexperience on the subject of our 'connection'." Loki smoothly crosses the floor and bristly yanks Inia right-side up off the ground with little care, a silent satisfaction of mirth and amusement envelops his cruel face as he observes her struggle for proper footing mid-air. His grip coiling her windpipe tightens fractionally which threads panicked blushing quartz with blue-blemished peridot. The action is nostalgic, paralleling with the past so strongly that her tender hold instinctually on his forearm gives a mild squeeze, thus hitting the dark prince with an epiphany. _

_For the first time in a year of eternity, the black water drowning his mortality and empathy drains a flooded shore, allotting a liberation of freedom he had not known he needed or lacked. The illusion of a rage-fueled vengeance to soothe the flame of betrayal, discontentment and dissatisfaction lifts akin to an ashen fog from his carnaged mind. _

_The watery, desperate tone of his gasp and frightened shroud of absolute green alert the Vanir native of his sun-risen clarity. "Inia?!" _

_Immediately embracing his trembling stature, the pair falling to their knees, a crescendo of wails both grief and relief spilling forth his shattered voice, she combs soothingly through the tangles of raven locks murmuring saccharinity. Unconsciously, Inia somehow clutches him closer than before and automatically peppers kisses of serenity in his longer, curling hair. Over his shoulder, a hand coaxing circles up and down his spine only to wince at his sickly form, she exhales a shaky breath at the sight of the eerie scepter laying prone on the marble floor some dozen feet away, as are the chains that have mystically vanished from her body by his doing. An emotion of mockery, spitefulness and insanity emanates from its malicious power brought to truth in her presence; she eyes the scepter warily and transitions her line of sight to the calamity still raging outside the walls of their refuge. "What happens to us?" _

_"Fate." He mumbles almost inaudibly in her neck, savoring the silken texture of one of many intricate, snowy Jotunn braids sliding between the pads of his fingers, leaving her to feel the coolness of his tears slide down the flesh of her chest beneath her grab. _

_Avidly, she retracts to arms-length and searches the pallor flush of his unhealthy gleaming skin, the drawn expression throning his face, the slump of his frame but strengthens her statement upon registering love's gratitude lingering his bright eyes. Her hands move from his arms to cradle his face delicately, drawing his attention upon her words as green thread with pink. "No. We can change this, whatever it is. I can change this." _

_"Being here now, you already have." The soft, genuine adornment tugging the corners of his mouth into a lazy, crooked smile slowly drops to a thin, resolute line of disheartened reality. One hand on her adamantine plated shoulder, his free touch caresses her jaw and cheek with upmost tenderness and cherishment – a vast opposite to his dark-self she witnessed moments before. "You must return, for you do not belong here now. I shall see you again, my beloved. Soon." _

_Norn sedir washes her in an inner whirlpool, brandishing the birthmarks of Yggdrasil's sisters upon her radiating flesh. "No. I cannot leave you now, not in this –" _

_"Remain as you are." _

_Before Inia can part her lips to respond, a heavenly pressure enriched with pleasure settles on her mouth, evaporating any protests hovering in and out of her mind dreamily ~_

Inia wakes tentatively, wishing she could reverse the premonition and aid where she was pivotally needed in the midst of a great sorrow. A rosy gaze typical for her people blinks rapidly, a heat scorches her neck at the vivid memory of what is to come; fingertips brushing parted lips tingling pleasantly, she exhales deeply and sits up, grateful to be in her own century, taking in the vacancy of her purple-gold clad chambers. Spying a robe in its usual place on the edge of a bench at the foot of the mattress, Inia crawls up the furniture and secures the article around herself. She rids the tiredness from her eyes and gently pats her cheeks, stimulating her facilities to arise the fog of sleep clouding her mind's eye. A handful of moments pass before a knock gathers her attention, cueing her to find Halden, crisp and polished in his black, gold and red guardian armor. She remains half-sheathed behind the floor-to-ceiling door, ensuring modesty and privacy, bidding him a curtesy nod.

"My apologizes for disturbing you, my lady."

"Worry not, for I was not asleep. Is all well?"

"Yes. The Queen-Mother sends word requesting your presence in the eternal garden, as soon as you are available."

_Oh Gaea. Frigga knows how to read and decipher the Threads of Fate. Does this mean she is aware of my premonition and what it entails? _

Hiding her cringe of the awkward ponder, Inia agrees to the meeting seeing as she does not have much anything else to do beside visiting the archives to discuss history with Lady Vor, practice her fine arts or meditate for interpretation. Not long after Halden resumes his post outside her chambers, Inia smoothly passes Geffjon wandering around her bed chamber picking up loose articles and cleansing the area. Appreciative of the small spread awaiting her in the lounge within her space, a marmalade coated biscuit awakens her taste buds leading to her vocalization her approval when she hums unadulterated delight.

Geffjon, quickly finished stripping and refitting the ornate mattress of wrinkled to fresh linen, is parting the canopy's veils to knot around the surrounding four posts when a damp-headed priestess exits the water closet donning a robe. "Good morn, my lady. Would you care for me to style your hair? Perhaps help you decide on a frock for the day?"

"If you are not needed elsewhere, that would be a great help. I am sorry to admit fashion does not come to me with ease as it does Idunn. More often than not, she styles my hair and supplies my wardrobe according to my duties." Receiving assistance from the handmaid who knits a lone inverted braid tightly against her scalp that swings and skims her waist with each movement, Inia gulps the remains of her juice and pops a final indigo grape against her tongue before nodding her gratitude.

Halden shadows her as she skates in a simple off-shoulder chiffon frock colored in her typical purples, exempting the aqua sash resting in a lavish knot circling her hourglass. The subtle shuffle of her braided sandals fill the silence of the corridors with every twist and curve of golden archways.

The sunlight reaches as far as the eye can see in Frigga's eternal garden. Every color is vibrant and glistening an ethereal shine much how Inia recalls the fae fields of Niflheimr are. Nature's sweet, herbal perfume fermenting the air, the wind's cascading caresses swirls and mixes the realm's addictive fragrances; Inia is positive she shall wreak wonderfully of this 'til the moon arises and suddenly realizes why her Grace radiates the scent of sheer beauty. With an acknowledging nod her guardian's direction, the bell sleeves of the frock ruffle excitedly as she steps bouncily to the isolated square of the garden's center where she and Loki exchanged saccharine words just the previous eve. Glinting at Halden patiently awaiting her reprise at the garden's mouth of entry situated among rows of ivied archways, they exchange a respectful glance. A smile brightens her symmetries at the sight of her regent mother swathed in an emerald frock so luxurious, it parallels the environment.

Frigga notices Gerd's daughter approaching by the similarities of their aura signature synced to the planes of Vanaheimr and turns away from some sort of blossom tree to collect the gal in a sweeping embrace. "My, you are glowing, dear. I trust you slept well?"

"I – _yes_. Of course, yes, _indeed_. Forgive my speech, I have much to ponder as of late." Inia sighs and squeezes the wise hand clasping hers as they stroll slowly down one of many grassy pathways springing forth harmless insects investing pollination within nectarous flowerbeds cultivated from the Nine and their boundless galaxies.

"And what may that be?" Frigga pries gingerly, glimpsing up at fortune's profile every few beats if not examining the distraction of beauty among them.

"A premonition. But please, you did not request this meeting for me to speak of myself…unless you have?"

"No. I summoned you so we may partake in the time that remains."

An all-too acquainted sorrow threatens to drop her heart stonily at the mention of such carnage and annihilation to befall them. "Mm. I see."

"As do I. Please, speak freely and be not afraid of your concerns."

A mien of contemplation and confusion flickers across her features, an obvious sign to her stronghold of cautious uncertainty. "Twas strange. Before, I was merely a bystander witnessing things breathe life, to come to pass; the individuals of my premonitions would not interact with me and I could never save them in return. Last eve, twas as if I was no longer a phantom. I felt everything from the sunlight in the air and smelt the scents of flesh, despair and calamity riding the winds of Vindr. It felt as if I was there, truly in the flesh. My future-self…I was in bondage. But truth reigned and allowed the darkened illusions twisting his mind to be free, freeing myself. Then he..."

Intrigued, the bride of Odin urges, "Go on, dear."

"His mouth covered my own. I believe…great gods of yore, I know not what to believe."

The AllMother's head tilts ponderously, a maternal yet aware look paints her graceful, eastern Vanir features. "What facet of this irks you so? The helplessness of bondage? The prospect of a kiss?" Though their eyes link, the slip of one hand leaving the other does not venture the mother of Loki, nor does how her son's person of interest embrace herself in an unconscious practice of self-soothing.

The pair pause their stride below a feathery canopy in which the sunlight peeks above and below to warm the natural blush of their honeycomb complexions. Somewhere at their side yet above twitters a flock of flaming sol-seekers emanating blazes of beautifully chaotic yellow-oranges.

"Before I lifted the enchantment from his mind, I never imagined – Frigga, he was mad in every sense of the word." She swallows a watery lump evident in her voice. "There was carnage waged on another realm. Thor was in a blue sky locked in battle and I fear Loki was responsible. … All that death and calamity on such an infant race…I vowed to him I would not let that fate come true. There must be another way, Frigga! We must prevent Loki's corruption to the blue enchantment. Damnation! I should have questioned the craft's origins!"

"This is how you feel then?"

Inia does not hesitate in her reply, "Yes."

"And you care for him. For Loki."

"Yes." She affirms, unknown to herself how vehement she speaks.

"Then make haste on your vow. You may prevent this tragedy by preparing for the catastrophe. Do you understand?" Hands squeezing the priestess' shoulders encouragingly, eyes burning solemnly to gather the attentive nature of one harbinger, Frigga beholds her fellow Vanir with a melon pink vision of her own.

"Preparation? You speak of warfare."

"Indeed. The Threads of Fate have not led me amiss before and they shan't now. Rest assured, you do as you must to protect my son from tragedy and I shall protect you from the wrath of Odin. Mend this before it shatters, Inia, as I have seen you do so in faraway kingdoms both mighty and desolate."

The weight of the situation's somberness sharpens Inia's stature sporting the immeasurable, resolute strength of her Jotunn brethren. "Karnilla is the catalyst, you know of this do you not?"

"I do, but fear not for the Norns chose you are their child to bear the blessing of their _sedir_. Inia, all things worth cultivating take effort to obtain, so have patience and believe in your capabilities, for only then may you be all that you are meant to become." Exchanging a series of soft smiles with the girl, Frigga continues, "Also, I strengthened the masquerade enchantment upon my son so worry not of your premonition pertaining his parentage. As for preparation, I shall see to it that Tyr is available to you at your convenience during your duration upon Asgard. Fandral may be a wise choice of mentorship as well."

"My, you speak as if I have not brandished a blade in all my days." Inia teases lightheartedly.

"Hush," Frigga grins, lazily swatting the air beside her goddaughter. "Be well in your endeavors, my dear. Oh, and be not hesitant to discipline Fandral if he is to cause you any ill will…or if he simply vexes you, I suppose."

Inia giggles at the imagination of doing as the Queen commands and smiles vastly. "Be well, Frigga. I hope to see you during the second feast."

"And I you, Inia."

On a stroll toward the war pitch beyond the eternal garden connecting to courtyards surrounding an ivy maze, Inia trailing beside Halden discussing everything and nothing of the daytime stars glittering golden skies and the various villages dotting the flat realm, one of which dwells between and atop the lilac, snow-capped mountains of where he hails from, the guardian and his charge pause upon the stone walls encompassing the circular training arena set deep within bowels of sanded land. Crimson Hawks stationary in all periods of day and night among these high-risen walls for the defense of Asgardia Palace and ultimately the realm seeing as Inia easily surveys the Bifrost's length in its full glory from this distance, feeling the winds of Vindr ruffling the exaggerated sleeves of her frock, Fortune herself glints downward upon feeling a telltale shake of the foundation below her soles. "Nerthus."

_What on Vana has riled her so for her to prompt the displacement of her sedir? _

The answer arrives in the form of ominous charcoal clouds rolling in from the north, shuddering a great crescendo of crackling wails and strobing cyan lightening.

_Thor, ever the emotional one_, Inia glimpses to Halden and proceeds down the round stairway.

The stale musk of honeyed sweat, enriched dirt and metallic blood intermingling the air imprints various badges of bloodshed, exaggerating longstanding angled slashes and gouges of combat decorating countless pillars circling the pitch's arena.

Bypassing the leer of guardians completing their drills and those resting upon their stations, Inia brushes aside the honesty of their respect emanating their aura and enters the pitch where two blondes, one wheat haired and the other caramel headed, flex the limit of their tempers.

"I know not if it is wise to have you in the company of such ferocity, my lady."

Inia regards Halden simply, a tentative smile etching her. "I thank you for your concern, but I refuse to leave Nerthus in any mishap. Although, I have a favor to ask of you, my friend."

"Of course, my lady. Anything."

"I wish to have word with Tyr and Fandral before dusk, before the second feast of _Jera_ this eve. The matter of my request is not for the ears of none else but yourself and themselves. Gather me once they agree to have word with me where we shall meet in the armory of this place. Do you understand my request?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Worry not of my well-being in this moment, for I shall be in the care of the princes and the warrior's three."

With that, Halden struts passed her, thus exiting the alcove of privacy the pair have curated aside the amphitheater's heart, dispersing somewhere or another within the multitudes of spectator levels.

Examining the band of merry men gaffing at the dark prince attempting to smooth the wrinkles of a fair princess gesticulating crude insults of her mother-realm as the keeper of Mjolnir spats offences donning a mien of revulsion, Inia ambles behind the ensemble silently donning a cloak of utter grace.

"Grieve your words!" Nerthus, lithe and petite in retrospect to the slabs of muscle composing Thor's towering stature, she scampers forth quite ridiculously, considering her feet are bare, and must level him an infamous smirk dipping saccharine with eyes twinkling a ferocious allure.

His brows pull together uncertainty, bewildered yet stony as he beholds fuchsia gems gaping at him quite…_prettily_? Unable to ever deny a beautiful maiden and cursing the Norns as it may be his peril, the girth of his shoulders tense, bulge and ease as Thor exhales exasperated defeat. "Perhaps I have not given you a fair wager. You may attempt to lift Mjolnir once more, but none the more, for soon my friends I and I shall know of your worth." His grip loosening around the hilt of the enchanted hammer to settle a step or so behind her, the brother of Loki abruptly summons the weapon into his palm boastfully, stirring the Vanir's caramel hair as it smoothly misses slamming through her skull.

Nerthus glowers at Thor over her shoulder, intending to claim his smile as her own.

"This time, you shan't warp any such _sedir_ to sway your chances. I understand why you wish for victory, but you shall taste defeat. Truly, how can a lady such as yourself not desire my mouth to cover yours? You shall be defeated, for only I am worthy of Mjolnir…although that would beg to wonder if you understand this and do desire me as I do you." An uncharacteristically tender expression swirls topaz gems and for a count or two, he simply admires the exotic beauty in epiphany of unadulterated honesty. "Sweet Valhalla, you are the fairest lady I have laid my eyes upon, and I have laid upon many. Odin help me, if your beauty is true and reflects your soul, I cannot fathom how breathtakingly radiant you are unclothed."

Abreast of Fandral, Loki claps his palms together with great apathy toward his brother's quest to sate the desires of his loins and exhales a steadying breath summoning patience and clarity. Not long after, he glances to the blonde swordsman who grips his shoulder good-naturedly. His ears relay Fandral's humming words carefully, "Speaking thickly, is he not? Though, tis not as if he is wrong, she is quite the specimen of a goddess."

"Verily, though I am fond of another."

"Has truth bound your tongue, or are you naturally a bumbling oaf?!"

"Simply lift Mjolnir and victory of the wager is yours. Understood?"

Inia stretches a hand outward. She barely conceals the glean tickling her mouth when the weightlessness of black uru hovers from its throne among the warriors to swiftly slam into her palm; thin fingers spindling the hilt, her arm lowers from above and extinguishes the bursts of lightening popping and resounding her thunderous levitating form. Pale strands cease their flagging in manifested winds as sandal-veiled feet cushion Asgard below her, the priestess' shinning cyan blue sight skirts a band of mixed emotions portraying themselves as astonishment and annoyance from the thunderstorm prince himself, shock and excitement beaming Nerthus and Fandral, all unlike the intensity of enthrallment smattering Loki.

"By Odin! Fate is worthy!" Fandral whoops.

"Did you truly think not?" Eyes rolling, Nerthus smugly dials to the hammer's keeper. "It would seem that you shall remain void of my affections, oh mighty Thor. If you may excuse me," She glances to the darker prince, spying the thread of affection that has woven masculinity to femininity. "I must hasten if I am to attend Lofn's eve banquet. Thunder, Mischief, Dashing." Nodding her farewell to the Aesir, Nerthus is seen linking arms with Inia whom delicately rests the beloved Mjolnir upon sparkling sands, simultaneously vacating all and any traces of stormy aura from her person; the returning etiquette of sendoffs are not perceived by the ears of Inia even when a fleeting glimpse over the shoulder of one Vanir is cast.

The intimacy burning his peridot injects a flutter of emotion into her center ignited only the night before, currently frolicking further south with each passing moment. A blush colors her neck and despite her interjection to stifles it as much as she possible, the sign of which she were born under whispers, "_he tests us_", within Nornheimr winds. Steeling her resolve, Inia corrals her youngest aunt and tosses an unimpressed glint at Thor jabbering with Halden whom upholds his rank and guardianship duties by providing brief answers to sate the attention and entertainment of Asgard's First Son lazily tossing Mjolnir to and fro dueling hands.

"Inia, is all well?"

"I...believe so," Paces from their connected chambers, one blonde twists to the curious other. "Why do you wonder?" Smirking at the nature goddess' oddities as she herself scans their surroundings seeking a semblance of solitude, Inia pauses their gait and threads their fingers with palm flushing whilst pink pools reflect each other. "Nerthus?"

Comforted and reassured by the tenderness of her maternal tone, Nerthus exhales before hushing her concerns. "I do not trust him, Inia. Mischief. He beholds you vastly different than all others, including myself and as crowned princess, I am to be searching for a suitor. Surely Odin is aware of this? However, heed my words, Inia. He plans something for you, and I wish you not to be led astray from your oaths to Freya, nor your summons of the Norns. Understand your gifts, titles and duties hold a higher import than one prince; not to mention a lesser prince. Please, do not think I say these things to harm you, but you must be wiser if I am to succeed this _Jera_, with you at my side."

_I see Freyja has wormed her claws into Nerthus. Is Idunn not an ideal muse? Gaea birthed Freyja so of course she praises her preferred heir. Nerthus simply desires to fulfill her birthright, her duties, her destiny and it reflects in the words she speaks now_, Inia internally grumps, _why was I not informed of Gaea's intent to find her a suitor? Ah, yes; this is the reason I was chosen to guardian her, for my Priestess role shall bless the matrimony union and the duration of her Queenship of Vanaheimr. I understand; to anoint a union for a blessed Queenship, one must earn my fortune to wed and based upon all I have seen as Skuld regarding Thor, I cannot forgo my praises for Norns' choice of groom. Perhaps the vison of he and Nerthus' consummations is not a thing to prevent, but eluding of the greatness such a bonding is to come: a third coming of peace between Vanaheimr and Asgard. _

"I understand," Releasing the Vana native to her own devices, Inia stops short of her chambers and twirls toward the looming shapes of Halden and Thor approaching. Coolly, her prophesying tone pulls their attention in passing, raising hair to stand at end as she mutters, "One should not speculate nor blame another for something that may not happen, or has yet to happen." She purposely gazes upon Nerthus before taking her leave, "For one to fall away would be the fault of oneself. Good _Jera_."

"Are you not attending tonight's banquet? Lofn's eve is one of the fondest nights of _Jera_!" A confused Thor declares.

"Hm. I believe my duties remain elsewhere for now, seeing as you are now the guardian of a nature goddess,"

She muses with a smirk, _what are the odds of two elemental royals uniting? Two royals, two realms, two kingdoms, two elements. Nature and Thunder. Life and Tempest. All shall be well, as I see it through. _

"Interesting."

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I haven't posted in FOREVER I know but this was pre-written & being busy with home life & Quarantine & other projects, this Inoki has 4 sure been on the back burner but I think its high time they have a moment - they deserve it so here it is 4 those who have followed or favorited, I thank u personally! During R&R, CC is encouraged. Geffjon nor Halden have no FC. **

**~_ Norn Vision/Foresight_ _as Harbinger_~**


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